


A Tale of a Nightingale

by SpiritofJazz



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crimes & Criminals, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Forgiveness, Heavy Angst, Mental Instability, Recovery, Slow Romance, Slut Shaming, Thieves Guild, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-06-29 11:07:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 34
Words: 107,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15728154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiritofJazz/pseuds/SpiritofJazz
Summary: She's on the run, only staying in Skyrim until Cyrodiil is safe again, and even though she struggles in her new Guild Isobel does her best to keep her spirits high and her tankard full. But as she reaches new depths with a person she's never reached before the Guild begins to unravel, and Isobel can only run away from her memories for so long. [Rated E for sexual/adult themes]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, welcome to whatever this shit is.  
> I have been working on this story as a fanfiction.net user for years now (I'm not even done it yet what is wrong with me), I heard a lot of good things about AO3 and decided to give it a shot! Since I already have 60 chapters of this bad boy completed you can expect consistent updates for the next year or so. Or if you're impatient/just plain ol' curious you can check out what has been posted so far on fanfiction (link in my profile).  
> To delve a little bit deeper into my story than my summary does... Years ago I was an avid fanfic reader and I basically wanted to write about a Skyrim adventure that was a tad bit more immersive than the game. Bethesda gave us a skeleton of a world full of barely developed characters, I wanted to flesh everything/everybody out. I wanted to deal with themes regarding trauma and addiction, sexuality and slut shaming, and ultimately recovery and healing. I wanted to write a more realistic depiction of what would actually happen if someone had joined organized crime as a child (a trope I saw everywhere at the time) and wanted a female love interest who wasn't a naive maiden who always had her "first time" with Vilkas or Farkas or whoever (another trope, thankfully this one has died out a bit since then lol). I wanted to write a romance where characters didn't become infatuated within weeks and promise their undying love. I wanted ALL of the Thieves Guild thieves to be developed and involved in the story, not just Bryn and Vex and Delvin.  
> My characters are not white knight thieves who steal from the rich to give to the poor, they aren't evil and heartless either. Like real people they exist somewhere in the middle.  
> I hope my little ramble hasn't turned too many people away, this is mostly stuff I've been wanting to explain to my readers/haters forever without ever having the chance to.  
> Hope you enjoy, even though lots of the story is already written I would still appreciate any constructive criticism on how I can make things better. <3

17th of Last Seed 4E 201

The dawn was just beginning to break and the sky was a perfect gradient of purple and blue. Glowbugs and Luna moths still floated lazily in the air and dew was starting to form and soak through her cheap boots. The Breton had been walking for a couple hours already, sleeping only for a few hours earlier in a desolate farm's stables. It had been close to a fortnight since she fled the Imperial City, all on foot and alone.

The sky was getting lighter and the air less crisp, but she still needed to wrap her arms around herself to keep warm, her cloak now too ratty to keep in any body heat. She was close to Helgen if she remembered, only a little further until she was able to buy some more food and supplies. She had half a mind to just steal them and keep the small amount of coin she had in case something more important came up, but she knew the last thing she needed was a bounty in the very province she was seeking sanctuary in.

Out beyond the pines she suddenly heard shouts and instantly fell to the ground, her senses straining harder than ever in her exhausted state. She crept forward, towards the sound of clashing steel and battle cries, being ever so conscious to not step on the pine needles that littered the soft earth. She was close, and crouching, peeked behind a tree to view the scrap before her.

She recognized the Imperial uniforms instantly and grew tense, and it took her a few more seconds to deduce that the opposing forces had to be the Stormcloak rebels. There were a lot of Imperials, a lot more than Stormcloaks, and she knew the battle was already won. A loud thunder that seemed to split the air made her jump and retreat behind the tree which quaked. Regaining her balance she looked again and saw that a Nord, wearing a different outfit of gray furs among the Stormcloaks, was unleashing powerful sonic waves out of his mouth with each war cry, Imperial soldiers flying backwards in its strength. She had never seen anything like that and became scared, she needed to get away immediately.

A crunch of needles behind her made her snap around before receiving a sharp blow to the head, knocking her unconscious with a small grunt.


	2. To Riverwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first few chapters are quite so slow and boring (at least I think so) but there are bits and pieces that will come into play later. Things start to pick up in Chapter 4.  
> Thank you for reading!! And thank you to those who already gave me kudos!

            "That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!"

            Climbing up the snow drift and out the stony cave was as tiring as it was rewarding. They _had_ made it, and by the looks of it there were no soldiers nearby to spoil their relief.

            "Wait!" The Nord Stormcloak pointed abruptly, gesturing to the sky above and the beast in it. They crouched behind some stones, watching the majestic creature fly west on black wings before being swallowed by the clouds. "There he goes. Looks like he's gone for good this time." The two stood up, brushing dirt and dust from their clothes and eyes. "No way to know if anyone else made it out alive, but this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We'd better clear out of here." The Breton couldn't agree more. She was more afraid of Imperial soldiers than dragons.

            "So, you said your name was Heidi, right? To that Imperial with the list?"

            "Yes." She lied. Her name wasn't Heidi, it was Isobel, as if she was going to say her real name to authorities and give them a real reason to execute her, which they tried to do anyway. "That guard said your name was...Ralof."

            The blonde intimidated her, as most Nords did. She had been in Skyrim a few times already when she was quite young, and none of them had been good experiences. She knew the people here weren't the most accepting of outsiders and that they were fierce warriors, it was an unnerving combination.

            "Yes, Ralof of Riverwood." He smiled softly as they found their way to a stone road. Isobel followed his lead, he knew where he was going and she was still too shaken to think about what her next move was.

            It must've been early afternoon, the sun was approaching its zenith in the sky and the air was pleasantly warm with a slight breeze. The Skyrim scenery was as beautiful as it ever was as they walked down the path, pines and mossy earth to their right and a river of snowmelt flowing from the mountains to their left. The peaceful sounds of birds chirping was interrupted by Isobel's stomach gurgling loudly, and she openly grimaced in disgust at herself. It had been days since she ran out of food, and she was running solely on adrenaline and fear.

            "Who knew fighting dragons and Legionaries would empty our bellies, eh?" Isobel tried to smile at Ralof's comment but couldn't, she could see him looking at her curiously and shifted uneasily.

            She knew she probably looked like a wreck, as anyone who walked for a week in the wilderness would. She could smell her own body odor so she could only imagine how bad it was for someone else. Her black, shaggy mop for hair was usually a mess, but not to the point where it was clotted with dirt and plastered with grease, and mud was so encrusted in her fingernails she'd be surprised if she could ever clean them out. Needless to say, it was obvious that she had been traveling on foot for a while. She felt her pouch yet again to make sure her letter was still there and hadn't got lost in the fray at Helgen. That piece of paper would ensure her acceptance into her temporary home in Skyrim.

            "My sister, Gerdur, runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road." Ralof said suddenly. "I'm sure she'd help you out. Her husband Hod is a great cook and they both will be happy to let you stay until you're strong enough to continue where ever you're going."

            As terrified as she was, the offer was extremely appealing. A place to wash, feed and sleep where people were as on guard from Imperials as she was. Even though she was told to go east through the mountains to Ivarstead and then to Riften, she decided that with all that happened a change of plan was in order.

            "Okay, that...that sounds nice." Isobel mumbled, tenderly rubbing the back of her head where she was hit. There was a sore bump there, once she was alone she would have to perform some Restoration magic on herself, she felt too uncomfortable to do it in front of Ralof knowing that most Nords disapproved of magic.

            "Good. Follow me." They continued walking in silence. Normally Isobel was a talkative person, to the point where it got her into trouble, but she was too overwhelmed with everything that happened in Helgen that she didn't feel like conversation. She wasn't sure what they'd talk about anyway. Apparently Ralof did though.

            "You know you should go to Windhelm and join the fight to free Skyrim. You've seen the true face of the Empire today. If anyone will know what the coming of the dragon means, it's Ulfric." It took a lot for Isobel not to start laughing. She wasn't cut out for war, to see her on the battle field would be comedy. She was good at brawls and bar fights only for her size, not war with huge men. Still, she really was curious about the dragon. She felt a sudden pang of nausea at the thought of the slaughter that happened not more than two hours earlier, the roaring and chaos. It struck Isobel if the Stormcloaks were the type to destroy an entire town if it meant saving their leader, and asked angrily:

            "Was that dragon on your side?!" But she felt like it was a stupid question as soon as she said it.

            "What?! Oh, hardly! I don't think even Ulfric could pull a dragon out of his pocket. Lucky for us it showed up when it did, eh? I wasn't looking forward to getting a shave from an Imperial headmen." Ralof said with a sad chuckle, obviously also shaken from the attack. The man seemed kind enough, and not a threat, but she was still weary and kept her guard up despite his friendly advances."See that ruin up there." He stopped, pointing to a massive structure built into a nearby mountain. "Bleak Falls Barrow. I never understood how my sister could stand living in the shadow of that place... I guess you get used to it."

            When Isobel lifted her eyes to the bright mountainside and the large temple built into it her vision blurred suddenly and grew whiter, it took blinking several times for it to revert to normal.

            ' _By Azura, you better not faint, last thing you need is for some Nord warrior to play nurse to you._ ' She thought fiercely as Ralof guided her further, but after a few steps Isobel's knees buckled under her and the world went dark and quiet for a few moments. She felt Ralof move over her and large, thick arms shaking her.

            "Heidi? Heidi? You okay?"

            "I'm fine. I'm just..." She finally managed to spit out, and slowly Isobel opened her blue eyes and made to try standing. She was barely fully straightened when Ralof brashly lifted her up and continued walking down the stone path while carrying her in his arms.

            "Stop! Stop! I'm fine, let me down!" Ralof ignored her.

            "Remember, this isn't Stormcloak territory." He said seriously.

 _'Damn me! So much for being low profile.'_ She was in full Stormcloak apparel after looting a dead body in the Keep to protect herself on the fight out, leaving her traveling cloak behind. _'Now I'm dressed in rebel's armor in enemy territory. I might as well hold a dagger to my own throat.'_ Isobel scolded herself, cursing the whole situation she found herself in. Ralof saw the worry that furrowed her brows.

            "If we're ahead of the news from Helgen we should be fine, as long as we don't do anything stupid. If we run into any Imperials, just let me do the talking, all right?" Ralof said sternly, and Isobel's limbs couldn't help but grow limp. For several minutes she tried to get them moving again, hating feeling weak and helpless, it wasn't until Ralof announced their near arrival that Isobel was able to turn her head actually see where they were walking. She could make out the town's main gate, the walls surrounding it barely twelve feet high. Isobel finally managed to squirm out of Ralof's grip, not wanting any of the townsfolk seeing her in a man's arms. Regardless, Ralof wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her up on her still shaky legs.

            "Looks like nobody here knows what happened. Come on, Gerdur's probably working in her lumber mill." Ralof said once they entered through the gates, keeping a close eye on Isobel.

            Riverwood was peaceful, chickens clucked in the stone street and smoke plumed from the simple houses. There were a few civilians on the main streets, but the busiest by far was the large lumber mill that ran off the stream the pair had traveled along. Isobel walked with Ralof across a small plank bridge towards the mill, still trying to keep her dignity despite practically being dragged the whole way.

            "Gerdur!" Ralof shouted with a smile. A tall woman, matching her brother's blonde hair and blue eyes, turned away from gazing at river and towards the two, her face taking on an expression that was both alarmed and relieved.

            "Ralof! Mara's mercy, it's good to see you!" She had Ralof's accent too. "But is it safe here? We heard that Ulfric had been captured..."

            "Gerdur, I'm fine. At least now I am."

            "Are you hurt? What's happened? And who's this? One of your comrades?" Gerdur's gaze met Isobel's, who tried holding her chin up a bit higher and straightening her shoulders.

            "Not a comrade yet, but a friend. I owe her my life in fact. Is there somewhere we can talk? There's no telling when the news from Helgen will reach the Imperials... "

            "Helgen? Has something happened? You're right, follow me. Hod! Come here a minute. I need your help with something." A massive man with a thick beard peeked over from atop the saw mill.

            "What is it woman? Sven drunk on the job again?"

            "Hod. Just come here." Gerdur snapped.

            "Ralof! What are you doing here? I'll be right down!"

            "Uncle Ralof!" Isobel started violently and nearly fell out of Ralof's grip. A young boy was rushing towards them, followed by a huge, shaggy dog that she first thought was a wolf. "Can I see your axe? How many Imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?"

            "Hush Frodnar, this is no time for your games. Go and watch the south road, come find us if you see any Imperial soldiers coming." Gerdur said sternly, hands on her hips.

            "Aw mama, I want to stay and talk with Uncle Ralof!"

            "Look at you!" Ralof smiled and placed a hardy hand on the boy's shoulder. "Almost a grown man. Won't be long before you'll be joining the fight yourself."

            "That's right! Don't worry Uncle Ralof, I won't let those soldiers sneak up on you." The boy ran off quick as a flame with the dog behind his heels.

            "Now Ralof, what's going on? You two look pretty well done in." Gerdur beckoned to an area with a large tree stump and gestured for them to sit. Ralof sat down with Isobel still leaning on him for support, her eyes barely open as her feet screamed in relief in her boots.

            "Well, I can't remember when I last slept...Where to start?"

            She half-listened as Ralof told of the Imperial ambush, how they were captured and brought to Helgen for execution. That they had already knocked off one guys head and was onto to another stranger by the name of Zacharius before a dragon swept down and attacked the village.

            "You don't mean a real, live..."

            "I can scarcely believe it myself, and I was there!"

            In the havoc and chaos that followed, Ralof and "Heidi" were able to escape through Helgen's Keep and through the underground tunnels, having to fight Imperial soldiers along the way. Ralof told of how he fell after a Legonaire sliced the back of his leg, making him kneel to the man who held a sword to his face and how "Heidi" managed to run up behind the guard from out of nowhere and bury a dagger in his throat, then pulled out a healing potion and applied it topically onto Ralof's wound.

            "I didn't even know you could rub a potion into the wound, I thought you could only drink it!" Ralof praised, slapping Isobel on the back and causing her to wince. Gerdur smiled proudly at her. "...Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?" Ralof asked, suddenly stern.

            "Nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as I know." Gerdur replied.

            "Good, maybe we can lay up awhile. I'd hate to put your family in danger Gerdur, but..."

            "Nonsense, you and Heidi are welcome to stay here as long as you need too. Let me worry about the Imperials. Any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine." She said staring earnestly at Isobel. "Here's a key to the house, stay as long as you like." Isobel sat up and took the key out of Gerdur's gloved hand, struggling to understand why anyone would trust a stranger with a house key. She was beyond grateful, but she couldn't help but think they were a little stupid.

            "I ought to get back to work before I missed..." Gerdur turned to Ralof. "But did anyone else escape? Did Ulfric...?"

            "Don't worry, I'm sure he made it out. It'll take more than a dragon to stop Ulfric Stormcloak." Ralof laughed.

            "I'll let them into the house and, you know, show them where everything is." Hod chipped in. Isobel had forgotten he was even there.

            "Help them drink up our mead, you mean." Gerdur scolded with a smile. "Go. Make yourself at home." Ralof helped Isobel onto her feet as they followed Hod across the lumber mill and quaint village to a small stone house with a thatch roof.

            "I told you my sister would help us out." Ralof said happily as he placed Isobel in a chair at the table inside, seating himself across from her and leaning his arms on the weathered wood. The house was all one room, with beds on the far side and the kitchen area on the other.

            "So you saw a dragon, did you? Tell me, what was it like? As big as a house?" Hod said, his voice booming as he sat down, making the table shake. He had brought bread and cheese with him, and Isobel grabbed a loaf right out of his hands before he could put it on her plate. Saliva almost poured out of her mouth as she bit into the bread, Ralof and Hod watching her curiously.

            However, it wasn't too long until Isobel's stomach rejected the foreign substance, and she barely was able to turn her head away from the table before vomiting onto the stone floor. Ralof and Hod immediately stood up, Ralof rushing to her side as bread and bile continued to dribble from between her lips.

            "It's okay Heidi, don't worry. Just let it out." He soothed as he rubbed her back. It didn't help though, she was beyond starving, and her body wouldn't let her sate itself. She reached for her loaf again and tried to take a bite only to burp up more stomach acid.

            "Ralof just take a bucket and put her to bed, let the girl sleep for a bit. We'll try feeding her again after she gets some rest." Hod said as he pulled out a rag.

            "Here Heidi." Ralof wiped her mouth with the back of his bare hand and picked her up, walking across the hut and laying her on a small bed. "Just relax, you're safe here."

            Isobel was grateful for only a few seconds before passing out as her head hit the pillow.

* * *

 

            It was nearly three days of bedrest later, with her stomach finally able to keep down small amounts of food and her body not on the verge of fainting, when Isobel was able to make out the smell of her own stench. Feeling embarrassed for tainting her host's house for so long she quickly got up and walked briskly towards the door.

            "Hey, you're up! I- " Ralof said from where he sat at the kitchen table before seeing her exiting the cottage. "Where are you going!?" He called as he stood up.

            "For a bath." She replied as she shut the door and made for the river. It was dark and no one was working at the mill, so she felt safe enough to strip down and wade out into the chilly water.

            She definitely wasn't used to the cold, but Isobel was impressed with how clear the water was and how fresh it tasted, better than any of the rivers in Cyrodiil were. She began to scrub the layers of dirt and oil off her skin and plucked the twigs and leaves out of her hair, her body getting used to the frigid water. It felt good being able to move again, and slowly she raised her hand to her head and carefully cupped it over her bump. Letting her mind clear and eyes close, she felt her hand glow with dim healing light and the pain on her head fading.

            Isobel understood why the land was called Skyrim as she stared up in awe at the utter vastness of stars and moons. She knew she was a city slicker at heart but couldn't help but envy the people of Skyrim for living in such beauty. It almost dizzied her, looking that far up into infinity. She heard that some people believed the stars were tiny apertures in the sky and the light shining through was some sort of heaven where souls go. She never believed that stuff, but it didn't stop her from enjoying the twinkling lights above her. Her daydream was cut short by a shuffle of gravel at the bank and she turned sharply to see Gerdur.

            "You forgot some clean clothes." She said, smiling and placing a dress and leather boots one a nearby tree stump. "I'm glad you're up and moving." Isobel felt uncomfortable, folding her arms in front of her bare breasts and wishing Gerdur would go. "When you're all clean, come back to the house. Hod made some Horker soup and we've got plenty of mead. You're probably not going to sleep tonight given how much you've slept already, so we'll have a little party. To celebrate Ralof's safe return and the blessing of a new friend." Isobel was getting annoyed, she never knew of somebody, _especially_ a Nord, being so hospitable and friendly towards a stranger and it made her suspicious. Gerdur noticed her unease. "Don't worry child, whatever you're running from won't harm you while in our house. Ralof said you saved his life, and for that I'm forever grateful."

            Isobel finally understood how it must feel to be in someone's debt for a loved one's life. She would've done the same as Gerdur, if not more, if someone saved her brother. She felt a sharp pain as she thought of her brother.

            Isobel's pale, goose bumped legs slowly emerged from the river, water streaming down in little rapids as her wrinkled hands grabbed a piece of cloth Gerdur handed her to dry off. After she pulled on her new clothes she couldn't help but smile slightly in amusement. They were big, they were for a Nord woman not a Breton, so the sleeves were long and the hem dragged in the dirt as the two women made their way back to the cottage.

            The fire in the small house was welcoming after the cool waters in her bath, and the Horker soup more welcoming still. They didn't have Horkers in Cyrodiil, and the imported stuff wasn't near as good as what was in the soup. The family chatted and laughed contently, they were obviously close, and Isobel relaxed being surrounded by cheerful banter.

            It wasn't until Isobel finished a tankard did she, for the first time in weeks, feel like her old self...before the catastrophe in Cyrodiil, before her exhausting journey to Skyrim and the dragon attack on Helgen, and perked up considerably. Wanting to coax herself out even more, Isobel drank two more full tankards, quite a feat for her light weight and current state of health. And slowly she felt her true self resurface, that side of her that always thrived when she went out pub crawling with her friends.

* * *

 

            "Let's get rowdy you n'wahs and make Sanguine proud!" She slurred, clanking her tankard sloppily with Ralof's. The family's jaws dropped, more than confused at the complete misuse of a Dunmeri derogatory term coming out of the Breton girl's mouth. Except for Frodnar, who was still innocent in the ways of cursing and had no idea what _n'wah_ meant. "A toast for Gray Fox and that Ulfric guy! May they bed fine vension and dine on buxom women!"

            Ralof and Gerdur looked at each other in bewilderment.

            "I mean, you guys are so nice...so nice..." Isobel said between gulps. "Do you guys have a flute, playing music for you would be the least I could do for you. I can play a jig better than a brute can play a girl with low self-esteem!" Isobel whooped and laughed, continuing to surprise the room from her switch from forlorn and shy to loud and jolly.

            Ralof was worried. He was used to rowdy behavior when with his comrades, but Gerdur wouldn't tolerate it, not in her house. He just prayed she would be merciful enough to let the girl have her fun and leave without any drama. _'Please, please, Heidi. Shut up._ ' He tried to tell her with his eyes, giving her pleading looks from across the table, but she mistook it for flirting and winked back with a hiccup. That's when Gerdur stood up.

            "Heidi, stop this drunken nonsense!"

            "Relax Miss Riverwood!" Heidi beamed. "It's a party, like you said! You owe me that remember? You owe me a party!" She whooped again as she raised a tankard to Gerdur's fuming face.

            "Do not expend my hospitality and use the debt I owe you to manipulate me and disrespect me in my own home. Hod, take Frodnar outside." Hod hesitated, obviously wanting to stay and see where things went, but the look in Gerdur's eye convinced him otherwise.

            "Aw hop off! Let the boys stay! What kind of shindig is this?" Isobel stood up, genuinely upset. Ralof pulled her back down to her seat.

            "Gerdur please, she's been through a lot, you know how crazy men can get on drink. Damn, what she's doing now isn't half as horrible as what some of my fellow soldiers do almost every night. Heidi, stop!" Heidi had sensed that she was about to have her drink taken from her and began to chug the rest of what was left in her mug. Ralof pulled it away from her before she could finish and handed it to Hod, who was standing awkwardly between the door and table with Frodnar.

            "Okay. Okay. I'm...I'm sorry...I'm just not used to such..." Gerdur had softened in the name of her brother.

            "Please! Please can we have a party!" Heidi sobbed, suddenly emotional. "I just want to have fun like I used to, I used to be fun! Please!" The family tendered only for a moment. "Give me back my cup, you son of a _bitch_!"

            "Okay, that's it! No more!" Gerdur shouted. "She can drink herself stupid tonight, _outside_ , I don't care, but tomorrow morning she is gone! Gone!" Gerdur's tall frame reached over the table and grabbed Heidi by the neck of her dress. Dragging her out the door she yelled, "You sleep here on our doorstep or the Inn tonight, and tomorrow you'll continue to wherever you were going before you got wrapped up in that gods damned ambush. And don't come near Frodnar again!"

            She slammed the door on a stumbling and swearing Heidi, making the men in the house jump. Ralof felt uneasy, Hod looked disappointed at a fun night taken away and bright-eyed Frodnar was obviously trying to remember every detail. There was a moment of awkward silence.

            "Frodnar can share a bed with his father and I, Ralof you can take the small bed." Gerdur said, exhausted. Hod and Ralof looked at each other and shrugged. The family started to move to their designated resting places, still replaying the night's events. They were almost asleep when they heard singing from outside.

"They say I am a Savage Flower.

Singing sweet in every tower,

Every curtsy followed by a eerie wink.

Dance and clap to feel my power,

Get fever within the hour.

The first to plague a man and the last to quit my drink!"

 


	3. Onward to Riften

"How do I get to Whiterun from here?" Isobel drank some tea that Ralof had made to help her hangover, and it was working remarkably well. They were underneath a large pine tree behind Gerdur's house. Isobel knew that the road to Riften was far and she was still very exhausted from traveling, hence the idea of catching a carriage was extremely appealing.

"It's about a days journey just following the road north. You can't miss it, it's the capital of Whiterun Hold." Ralof said, leaning against the tree. "Jarl Bulgruuf still hasn't declared for one side or the other, so at least you won't run into any Imperials along the way. And you might want to hurry, Gerdur's already at the mill but if comes back she won't be happy to see you."

"Gods, what did I do last night. My family always had parties where there was dancing and music and fights and...everything. I thought Nords would be rowdier still." Isobel said as she pulled grass out of the ground, sitting cross-legged. As sorry as she was she couldn't help but feel a little frustrated. With all the hardship she had to face the past few weeks getting piss drunk was something she would've thoroughly appreciated.

"Well, most Nords are. Just not the ones with children and a town to run."

"Ah." Isobel nodded.

"I'm going to be heading off for Windhelm tomorrow, I need to get back to the field. This land isn't going to free itself." Ralof continued with a sigh.

"Are you sure you're fighting the right people?" Isobel asked before sipping more of her tea. A fire ignited in Ralof's eyes.

"The Empire might've been good for Skyrim once, but since they bowed to the Aldermi Dominion they've shamed us all. People have been dragged from their beds at night and killed, just for worshipping their own gods! The Thalmor are trying to destroy all our culture and traditions, so that we could be like them, and the Empire permits it!"

"Why aren't you guys fighting the Aldermi Dominion then? Why the Empire? You know they're trying to avoid another Great War by keeping that White-Gold Concordant, even if it's at a great cost. I'm sure if the Nords started revolting against the actual Thalmor some of the other provinces, maybe even Cyrodiil, would find the courage to fight too. Trust me, Skyrim isn't the only place being massacred, have you heard what they do in Valenwood?" Isobel wasn't into politics so much as she was into playing devil's advocate, and seeing Ralof think hard with furrowed brows was rewarding to her.

"I follow Ulfric." He stated. "He knows the way of war more than I, and I trust him. He's the only one to stand among us and fight for our people. I'll follow him into Sovengarde if I must." Isobel couldn't help but roll her eyes, nothing like blind followers to ruin a country. But then again, the reason she fled to Skyrim in the first place was because of the civil unrest, so maybe she could be a bit more grateful people were killing each other.

"Well, I'm heading off." Isobel said standing up. She handed Ralof his cup and looked up into his eyes. "You saved my life, you probably had a better chance of surviving than me, and you took me under your wing. So thank you. I'll remember this. I only wish I had something to give you in return." Ralof put his hand on her shoulder and it slumped under its weight.

"May we met again, friend. Good luck out there."

And with that she started off. She was half down the road when she turned and shouted, "I'm sorry for being a bitch last night!"

Frodnar and Dorthe happened to be nearby and started giggling and whispering to each other. Ralof couldn't help but smirk.

* * *

 

At the mill, Hod watched the woman cross the stone bridge towards the north, Gerdur caught him staring.

"Don't think you could ever pull what she did last night. You want to get drunk, go to a different town. If the townspeople saw you they'd lose respect-"

"Aw calm down Miss Riverwood. Whatever happened to the woman I knew who could gulp down five pints and still beat me in a fight?" Hod said. Gerdur frowned at him, but as she turned her back she broke into a smile.

* * *

 

27th of Last Seed

Although Bjorlam was an absolute delight to travel with, by the fifth day of trekking across the stunning Skyrim landscape and listening to his stories Isobel was beyond ready to be at their destination. She was tired of traveling, and the closer they got to Riften the more desperate she was to be done journeying.

Not to mention how expensive hiring his carriage was. She had to spend an extra day pickpocketing and nicking gold around Whiterun to accumulate enough, and she had promised not to do any thieving until she was in her new Guild.

Her Guild, Isobel missed it so painfully already. As Bjorlam told tale after tale of giving rides to hagravens and daedra and all sorts of crazy characters, Isobel found herself often holding the sealed letter she had to watch being written through tears. Isobel clutched the letter to her chest, feeling horribly homesick and missing her Guild family.

_'Please don't let me be here long.'_

* * *

 

It was well past sunset the next evening when they arrived at the Riften Gates. Isobel was ecstatic, she enjoyed Bjorlam's company but was getting stiff and wanting to find the place she'd call home for Gods know how long. She didn't even know where to start looking, and she imagined it wouldn't be simple finding a major crime organization.

"Thank you so much, Bjorlam." Isobel said as she jumped off the carriage.

"Anytime dear, I hope we meet again!" Bjorlam smiled as he went to unharness his horse and lead it to the stables. Isobel marched up to the gates and walked right into the chest of a guard that stepped in front of her.

"Hold there." He said in a low voice. "Before I let you into Riften, you'll have to pay the Visitor's Tax."

"What for?" Isobel scoffed, that seemed ridiculous. But then again, Whiterun was turning away folks because of a dragon scare.

"For the privilege of entering our city. What does it matter?" Even though the Riften guard's uniform included a helmet that covered his face, it was painfully obvious to Isobel that the guard was fishing for a few more extra coins. There was just a subtle hesitation before he spoke, and seemed to come off too defensive.

"Aw, sorry buddy but this is obviously a shakedown." Isobel laughed and patted his arm. As a fellow thief she admired his guts even though he needed to improve his lying skill.

"Alright! Keep your voice down...do you want everyone to hear you? I'll let you in, just let me unlock the gate." He flinched, looking around anxiously. There was another guard there, but she was apparently in on the gig.

"Welcome to Riften traveler, home of the Thieves Guild." She spoke from underneath her helmet. "Or so they'd have you believe. It's all lies. They're just thugs... vermin, creeping around underneath the city." Isobel was confused if the woman guard was a thief downplaying the Guild to tourists to make them underestimate them, or if she genuinely thought the Guild was just a bunch of scum.

"Gate's unlocked. You can head on in whenever you're ready." The male guard said, a touch of frustration in the voice.

"Thanks. And next time, say it's because you're collecting money for the Temple. People love charity." Isobel waved as she closed the gate behind her.

Her grin vanished as she turned and looked into the city and down the street. The air was grey and hazy for some indiscernible reason, and smelled like moist dirt and moss. And it was dark. Darker than cities ought to be at night. Isobel slowly started to put one foot in front of the other, nervously walking down a stone path with housing lining each side, further ahead she could see a large building with a light illuminating its sign and knew it must be the Inn.

"Careful." A guard said behind her, making her jump violently. "Riften's not the safest place to take a night-time stroll." He continued walking past her, as if he simply had said a greeting instead of something so ominous. Isobel's heart started to slow after a few breaths before she heard a whisper nearby.

"Psst!" Isobel peered into the darkness, her eyes adjusting. A man in full steel armor was leaning on a post with crossed arms, his dark hair and eyes even deeper than the shadows surrounding him.

"I don't know you. You in Riften looking for trouble?" He growled.

"I'm just passing through." Isobel shrugged and tried turning away.

"Hey!" He hissed and she froze. "There's something you have to know if you're gonna be spendin' any time here. The Black-Briars? They have Riften in their pocket and the Thieves Guild watchin' their back, so keep your nose _out_ of their business." Isobel frowned, what was this man talking about? "Me? I'm Maul. I watch the streets for 'em. If you need dirt on anythin', I'm your guy... but it'll cost you."

Isobel thought hard. If this man, Maul, was affiliated with people who affiliated with the Thieves Guild, she might be able to ask him valuable information on how to find them without him ratting her out to guards.

"I want to know where to find the Thieves Guild." Isobel said assertively, feeling confident now that she knew where she stood in the conversation.

"You heard. You want the dirt, pay up."

"Dirt, huh...? Well, I'm not exactly clean myself..." Isobel said, slowly untying the strings in the front of her dress. Maul grinned.

"Then we're speaking the same language. Good. What do you want to know."

"Do you know anything about the Thieves Guild?" Isobel asked, keeping the front of dress open but still covering her breasts.

"You kiddin'? My brother Dirge works in their hideout. I used to run with them myself, but took a job with Maven after they started hittin' a rough patch. If you want to get in on that action, find Brynjolf in the marketplace. I'm sure he could use someone like you, in more ways than one." Maul chuckled, moving forward and reaching out. Isobel put her hand on his chest and stopped him.

"Trust me, I'm pretty sure you're too big, one can't afford to be walking bow-legged in these dangerous times." Isobel said coyly as a violent look appeared on Maul's face. "But don't worry, maybe after a few dinners and a moonlit stroll something might bloom." Isobel thought of how twilight felt in the Imperial City and not Riften, how the darkening sky made the world quiet and _calm_ instead of scary, and reached up to stroke his rugged cheek. As soon as her hand made contact his eyes softened and teeth unclenched.

"Sounds lovely." He said. "I'll see you around. Be safe. Riften isn't friendly, during the day or night." He smiled foolishly as Isobel's hand stopped glowing green.


	4. A Chance Arrangement

Isobel awoke in the morning with several cow licks in her already scruffy hair. The cellar she had broken into was far from comfy, but she had no more gold after paying Bjorlam for his carriage, and Maul told her the man she needed to see was in the marketplace, which only operated during the day. She reached into the sack she had laid her head on and picked out a few raw potatoes to eat.

"Ugh." She stood up and stretched, her back releasing several satisfying cracks. The rest of her movement while ascending the cellar stairs and exiting the house was much more quieter. Making her way through the alleys and towards the town centre, it was then that Isobel realized the settlement was built half on land and half on Lake Honrich. The entire west side of the town was simply a sturdy pier, with wooden planks and docks attaching itself to the cobblestone streets on solid land over canals and moats.

The market was on the pier side and was quaint but impressive for such a poor town. Four stalls, a black smith, a produce wagon, the Black-Briar meadery and beside that a small little shop. Isobel sighed, the air was still hazy and the sky overcast. She couldn't smell any rain but knew it was entirely possible.

"Spare a coin for an old beggar?" Coughed a dirty man sitting on some crates as she passed. Normally Isobel was eager to develop friendly relationships with beggars, they were usually ignored by society and hence able to spy and eavesdrop in exchange for pay. But Isobel didn't have any coin to give him, in fact if she didn't find the Guild soon she'd be in the very same boat as him.

Vendors were shouting their wares to the streets, and shoppers slowly started to trickle in. In the center of the market there was a large well, and Isobel strolled up and leaned on it. It was covered in fungus and moss and emitted a weird smell from its depths, obviously it wasn't in use anymore.

"Running a little light in the pockets, lass?" Isobel jumped and turned to see a red-haired man in some fine clothing.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Your pockets... they're a little low on coin. I can tell." He said, crossing his arms. Even though his face was straight, his green eyes seemed to smirk at her.

"How could you possibly...?" But Isobel could already guess this was the man she was looking for.

"Your coin pouch is flat. You're standing in the middle of a market, and instead of even looking at wares you're staring down a dirty well." The man eyed her up. "And that dress definitely isn't yours." Isobel was impressed, trying not to let it show as he leaned on the well beside her. "It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk... what they're wearing, it's a dead giveaway." He seemed professional and sly, she knew she had to be the same if she was to get what she wanted.

"Well, _Brynjolf_ , any suggestions on where I can find work around here?" The Nord raised his eyebrows.

"Impressive, lass. How'd you manage to figure who I was?"

"It's all about making people sing their secrets. What their weaknesses are... what they like to hear." Isobel nodded her chin at Maul, who was standing at his post down the street. "All you had to do was talk to me about money, and I knew you were the guy I was looking for."

"Is that so?" Brynjolf lit up a bit although he still tried to play cool. "Well, if it's coin you're after, I've got a bit of an errand to run, and need an extra pair of hands. And in my business, extra hands are _very_ well paid." Brynjold spoke softly, trying not to attract attention from the surrounding civilians.

"What do I have to do?" Isobel leaned in, already growing excited.

"Simple. I'm going to cause a distraction and you're going to steal Madesi's ring from the strong box under his stand. He's the lizard-man behind me." Brynjolf subtly gestured over his shoulder and Isobel could see the Argonian standing at a jewelry stall. "Once you have the ring, you have to plant it in Brand-Shei's pocket." He then pointed his eyes at a Dark Elf opposite the market. "You up for it?"

"Why plant the ring on Brand-Shei?" Isobel asked, knowing a corrupt task giver would never say the reason behind a job.

"There's someone that wants to see him put out of business. Permanently. He's been poking his nose in some dangerous matters, and in all honesty, we're probably doing him a favour putting him behind bars before he gets killed. Tell me when you're ready and we'll get started."

"Okay, I'm ready." Isobel felt stupid grinning, but she was impatient to prove herself to this man and do what she did best at.

"Good. Wait until everyone is distracted, and then show me what you're made of." Brynjolf muttered, not sparing any time walking back to his empty stand."Everyone! Everyone! Gather 'round! I have something amazing to show you that demands your attention!"

"Come on, Brynjolf. What is it this time?" Brand-Shei groaned.

"Patience, Brand-Shei. This is a rare opportunity, and I wouldn't want you to get left out." Brynjolf continued waving people over.

"That's what you said about the Wisp Essence and it turned out to be crushed nirnroot mixed with water!" Madesi hissed, and as soon as he passed Isobel she wandered over to his stall and got to work.

Crouching behind the stand she pulled out her precious lockpicks and tension wrench, the stall's cupboard was locked and she inserted the first pick without hesitation. Her ear detected the clicks after a few seconds and the door slid open with ease. Next was the strongbox, naturally it was a little trickier but she managed to open that as well and plucked the ring from inside, also taking some extra necklaces and gems with her. She peeked beyond the stand, everyone was still listening to Brynjolf.

"Lads and lasses, I give you, the Falmer Blood Elixer!" He held up a large bottle that contained a red liquid inside.

"Oh come on, are you talking about the Snow Elves?" Brand-Shei scoffed sitting on some crates in front of his stand.

"The one and only! Mystical beings who lived in legends and were masters of great magic. Imagine the power that coursed through their veins!" Isobel had to admit, she couldn't blame the crowd for not lapping it up.

"How did you get that then? No one's seen them for years!" Brand-Shei shouted. Isobel had just crept behind the crates he was sitting on, his left pocket was reachable and slightly open. Delighted in her luck at such a prized position for her task, Isobel slowly placed the ring on the inside of Brand-Shei's pocket and let it gently roll into its depths. Quickly retracting her hand and retreating she blended herself into the crowd around Brynjolf. He continued for a while longer as Isobel watched him try to work the tough crowd. One by one they wandered off, cursing and groaning, leaving Brynjolf within nothing but red bottles and no coin. Once the last patron left he beckoned her over.

"Looks like I hired the right person for the job, lass." He said producing a small bulging coin purse from his inside pocket and placing it in Isobel's already waiting hand. "The way things have been going lately, I'm surprised our plan went through without a hitch."

"What's been going on?" Isobel said, looking up from her new coin pouch.

"Bah, my organization is having a run at bad luck." Brynjolf shrugged his shoulders, but Isobel could tell it something more was up. He spoke before she could ask more questions. "I suppose that's just how it goes. But never mind that, you did the job and you did the job well. And best of all, there's more where that come from... if you can handle it." There was something in the tone he said those last words with that made Isobel grin.

"Trust me, I can handle it."

"Let's put that to the test then. The group I represent makes its home in the Ratways...in the Ragged Flagon. Get there in one piece, and we'll really see if you have was it takes."

"Wait, where's the Ratway?" Isobel asked as he walked past her. He turned and looked at her, giving her a wink and a roguish smile, then continued his way across the square.

Isobel watched him go, feeling both satisfied and hungry. Hungry for more jobs. Hungry for social interaction again. She could tell she liked Brynjolf already, he was professional and sly, and she was anxious to meet the rest of the Guild. But now she had to prove herself again.

_'I don't think I should go back to Maul this time, but who else is there?_ ' Isobel thought. Suddenly a commotion behind her made her turn.

"What in the blazes are you talking about?" Brand-Shei shouted at the Riften guard at his stall.

"Don't play stupid. I said turn out your pocket now!" The guard demanded.

"I'm telling you I don't...wait, what's this ring? This isn't mine!"

"That's right, it isn't. You're under arrest Brand-Shei." The guard nodded her head at Isobel as she held a sword to Brand-Shei and started to guide him to the city prisons. Isobel recognized her as the female guard at the gates the previous night, and remembered...

_'They're just thugs...vermin, creeping around underneath the city'..._

* * *

 

Isobel scouted the whole town looking for a place that could lead underground. No manholes, no grates large enough for even a dog to fit in, and no accessible sewer pipes leading out into the lake. She spent the entire cloudy afternoon wandering like a child throughout the streets. She sat on a bench with a frustrated sigh and began people watching, the distant _clang clang clang_ of the blacksmith's hammer and anvil filling the air.

Suddenly Isobel perked up as she looked at the center of the square, and walking over briskly looked into the depths of the idle well. Picking off a piece of rumble from the crumbling stone, Isobel let it fall into the darkness. It took about two seconds for her to hear it hit the ground. Ground, which Isobel was glad for, and not water.

The well didn't have rope, so she needed to nab that. That night she walked along the Riften docks, looking for any rope that wasn't holding a boat to the wooden poles. The black sky made it easy to scavenge cargo, and once she found some that looked long enough she snuck back into the town.

Trying her best to keep out of the patrolling guards eyesight, Isobel positioned the rope in the pulley and tied both ends in a sturdy knot around her waist, forming a kind of conveyer belt between herself and the pulley. She slowly climbed into the opening, held onto the rope tight and slowly started to lower herself into the void. She had down this many times when infiltrating places from above, and had to make sure the slack rope wouldn't dangle too far below her and give her position away to any enemies.

When her foot first touched the solid surface below she quickly retreated it. It was wood, heavily rotting wood, and in the cracks of the planks light peeked out at her. She held herself there, her arms getting tired as she tried to figure out what was below the wooden barricade. Finding some sturdier ground around the edge of the well, she kneeled down and looked between a crack. She couldn't see much, but she could hear running water and what sounded like conversation. Shifting her position a bit she leaned closer, but before she knew it the wood beneath her broke from under her and she was falling.

Isobel's stomach dropped as she plummeted, the wind from the fall blinding her. Suddenly she felt a pull on the rope that nearly snapped her in two and opened her eyes to see was swaying about ten feet off the stone floor. She awkwardly tried looking around, and saw that several men in dark outfits were all staring at her, all of them completely dumbstruck.

In unison they scrambled, flying towards her with their daggers and bows drawn. With a shriek Isobel started to pull herself back up the rope, but the pulley had apparently been loosened by her fall and broke, sending her crashing the remaining distance onto her back, knocking the wind out of her. The pulley landed, cracking the stone a few inches from her head.

The men surrounded her as she gulped and convulsed like a fish out of water, straining to get air back in her lungs.

"Who in Oblivion is this?!"

"I've never seen her in Riften!"

"We have to kill her, we can't risk anything!"

"Stop!" A Breton pushed through the swarm of men, gazing down at her with cold, icy eyes. He kneeled down, trapping her gaze in his, and slowly Isobel started to panic. Where was Brynjolf? Did they know she was coming? "Who are you?" The grim man said, pulling out a steel dagger and leisurely placing the tip on Isobel's cheek. The room was silent as a crypt as Isobel strained to speak.

"Brynjolf knows." She gasped after what seemed like an eternity. With that the man grabbed her by the hair and yanked her up. A few yelps of pain escaped her lips as the man dragged her across the underground dwelling and through a door. Struggling and clawing at the man, Isobel stumbled down only to have him tug her hair even harder, strands being ripped out of her scalp. Suddenly he pulled her head up and she found herself looking into a shady tavern with more dark outfitted people. She spotted Brynjolf immediately at the bar.

"Dying breed, eh? What do you call that then?" Brynjolf said to the bartender serving him.

"How did she...?" The bartender said, completely confounded.

"Brynjolf? You know this bitch?" The ice eyed man barked, pulling Isobel's head up higher and making her stand on her tiptoes.

"Relax, Mercer. This is the one I was talking about...our new recruit. Heidi."

Mercer turned Isobel's head to look at her, his hot breath blowing down across her wet face.

"This better not be a waste of the Guild's resources, Brynjolf." He growled before letting her go with a sharp push. Isobel wobbled and tripped, taking a moment to compose herself before crawling back up.

"Mercer, stop it. No need harming the lass." Brynjolf replied. "She obviously has found our hideaway in a way no one else has. Shouldn't that mean something?"

"Sure it should, but she would've been killed if I didn't push off the boys." Mercer said callously. "You know what to do. Make sure she's legit, set her up, show her around, drill into her head how we do things around here. I've got work to do." Mercer turned. "And Delvin, we're going to need to rebarricade the well."

"I'll get right to it, boss." A stubbly man at a nearby table saluted, still somewhat shocked.

"Good." And with that Mercer left. Isobel stood, awkwardly meeting the gaze of the thieves staring at her. She felt naked and vulnerable and looked to Brynjolf for reassurance, he nodded and stood up. Placing his arm around her he pointed at the bartender.

"That's Vekel, Vekel the Man, he owns the Ragged Flagon. He's not a thief, but we consider him one of us, so don't mess with him. Get on his good side, and he'll give you free drinks. This over here," Brynjold guided her to a scowling woman with white-blonde hair. "Is Vex. She's a master lock picker, so you come to her if you need any training. She also is in charge of handing out some jobs, so you better be visiting her often if you're to earn your keep here." The woman, Vex, continued to stare coldly at Isobel before Brynjolf pulled her away to meet a large, bulky man in leather armor. "Say hello to Dirge lass, he's our lookout and head basher if anyone causes trouble." Isobel recognized the name.

"You're Maul's brother, aren't you?" She said softly, trying to be friendly. Dirge just looked at her, crossed his arms and grunted. Feeling put down Brynjolf quickly redirected her attention to the stubbled man eating a Horker steak at a table.

"That's Delvin Mallory." He said. "You swipe something that looks special, bring it to this lad, he'll tell you exactly what it is and set a good price. He also knows all types of important people, you want something and he'll find someone who's got it." Finally somebody smiled at her, and Isobel almost burst into tears in relief.

"You know me, I'm Second-in-Command here. And well... you've already met the Guild Master." Brynjolf said empathetically, removing his arm from around her and patting her on the shoulder. Isobel wished he kept his arm there, she felt like a lamb in a lion's den. "Now, I'll take you to Tonilia and set up you up with some Guild armor. You're one of us now." Even though his voice was clear throughout the room, there was no applause or recognition that the mysterious woman had just become one of them.

Brynjolf brought Isobel towards a Redguard woman that was sitting farther away, out on a wooden porch attached to the tavern. "Heidi, this is Tonilia, she's our pawnbroker here. You come around something you don't exactly own and she'll buy it from you. Tonilia, this is Heidi, our newest member. Think you can dress her like one of us?"

"I'll get to work on finding a good size." Tonilia said, looking Isobel up and down to get approximate measures. "There's not many left so I may have to import one if none fit. Come back in the morning, and I'll show you want I got."

"Good. Come on, lass. I'll show you to the living quarters. Though I suppose you've already seen them." Brynjolf brought her back through the Flagon and opened a large mead cabinet in the far back. It revealed a false back panel Isobel hadn't seen when Mercer dragged her through into the tavern. The pair walked through into the small hallway that led to the Guild's accommodations.

"This door right here is the latrine, and inside there is another door leading to a tin tub if you ever need to wash. Most of us just go to the lake to bathe during spring and summer, but sometimes we indulge in a hot bath, Delvin especially." They continued down the hall where Brynjolf pointed to a second door. "This is Tonilia and Vekel's room, they've been together for awhile now and this is basically their little house, so don't go in. And this is what we call the cistern."

Isobel stuck really close the Brynjolf when they entered the door at the end of the corridor. The cistern was an enormous, open area with a high ceiling. It was circular in shape, with beds facing towards the center against the curved walls. No one was sleeping, all the men were trying to act natural, chatting to one another or sharpening a dull blade, but Isobel could feel them stealing glances.

"Ah, there's where ya got in." Brynjolf chuckled and nodded upwards, Isobel caught sight of the hole in the ceiling and instantly felt embarrassed. "Whoop, be careful where you step, lass." He quickly put his arm out, stopping Isobel from wandering into a puddle of filthy water. From the looks of it some areas needed to be actually bridged by wooden planks to create a path over the large streams and pools of sewer water, some of which was cascading out of the surrounding grates like putrid waterfalls. Isobel grimaced, sickened that Skyrim thieves were living like rats and not in mansions like her kind. Something told her it would take a while for her to get used to the smell.

"Here, this is yours." Brynjolf pointed to the first bed on their right. "Make sure you read that book on your bedside table. That contains all the Shadowmarks Delvin developed to help us communicate with each other. I sleep in the bed over there next to the kitchen, so if you need anything, be a big girl and fend for yourself."

Isobel couldn't tell if he was joking or not, but she knew he was right, she couldn't hold onto his hand like a child anymore. She felt stupid being so fragile, it wasn't a part of her character at all.

"There's a training room beyond that passage where the alchemy station is on the left, kitchen's to the right. Mercer's desk is across the way there, don't touch anything there. The vault is behind those big, menacing doors. Don't go in there either, not that you can." Brynjolf stopped his pointing at various spots within the cistern and instead gesturing to her bed. "You can meet your new comrades in the morning, for now sleep. Have a good night, lass." He spoke as he passed her, walking back towards the tavern.

"Brynjolf, wait." He looked back at her curiously, and Isobel noticed a large scar that looked like a knife wound across his left cheek. "How did you find out my name? I didn't tell you at the market, or Maul."

"Bjorlam." He smiled.

"Well, joke's on you, my name isn't Heidi." Isobel said as she matched Brynjolf sly smirk. "It's Isobel." Brynjolf broke out into a full grin and shook his head at himself.

"You're really turning out to be quite the prize, lass." And with that he simply continued out the door, leaving Isobel in a room full of strangers.

If Isobel had felt homesick before, she felt miserable that night. She filled herself with self-loathing as she tried to hold tears back as they slid out, hating every drop. It was freezing cold in the cistern and the whole night she prayed to the gods she didn't believe in that she would be home soon, and not in the company of these people. Light was starting to pour into the hole in the ceiling before she was able to sleep.


	5. How to Tame a Fire

"Rise and shine, little lady."

Isobel sat up in her bed like a lightning bolt, beside her a man was holding out a wooden plate with a single slice of bread on it.

"I know it's not much," He said, looking at the pitiful breakfast. "But I warmed it up by the fire a bit to soften it, otherwise it's like eating a rock." Isobel untangled her dress from the thin sheets and took the plate. She wasn't going to let a friendly gesture go to waste in that gods forsaken place.

"Thank you." She said gratefully. "Sorry about alarming you guys last night, that was stupid of me."

"Yeah, you definitely gave us a scare, but we _are_ impressed. No one's ever figured out the well leads down to the cistern, and it looks so much better in here with some natural light streaming in. I'm Rune by the way" The large Imperial had dirty brown hair and gentle eyes, he reminded her of a friendly dog.

"Rune, eh? That's a interesting name, what's it mean?" She gestured for him to sit as she shifted to lean against the headboard of the bed with the plate in her lap.

"Well, my father told me he found me as a young boy in the wreckage of a ship that sank off of the coast near Solitude." Rune sighed as he seated himself. "All he found in my pocket was a tiny, smooth stone inscribed with some sort of strange runes. Thought it was fitting I suppose. I never changed it, because it never felt right to do so."

"That's sure mysterious, do you know what the rune means?"

"No one does." Rune said sadly. "I've even taken the damn thing to the College of Winterhold! I must have spent every last coin I've made with the Guild trying to find out what it means. Perhaps, they could be nonsense... inane scribbles done by someone in idle boredom. But if not... if they actually mean something, they might tell me where I'm from... what ship was I on. Everything."

"Well, I'll keep an eye out for you. We're brother and sister in crime now, so don't be a stranger." Isobel finished off her bread with a large bite, Rune raised his eyebrows.

"You _are_ strange. Did you just call me your brother?"

"Is that weird here?" Isobel asked with a full mouth.

"Well... It's just that we don't really consider this Guild a _family_ per se _.._. It's all about coin down here." Rune said.

"Then why did you wake me up for breakfast in bed and tell me your life story if we're all about business?" Isobel retorted, Rune couldn't help but smile.

"Bryn was right, there is something about you that's different. You're definitely gonna stand out down here. Speak of the devil!" Rune stood up as Brynjolf approached, tying together the fine clothes Isobel saw him wearing in the market.

"Isobel, you're finally up. Go see Tonilia, she's got Guild armor for you." He nodded to Rune who returned the gesture. "I see you've meet Rune. Good." And continuing to adjust his clothes he started to take off.

"Brynjolf, wait!" Isobel stood up quickly. "I need to speak to Mercer first." The two men stared.

"What in Oblivion about, lass?" Brynjolf said, looking at the Guild Master at his far off desk and then at her with apprehensive confusion.

"I need to issue some terms with him."

"Who are you to make deals with the Guild Master? You were initiated last night!" Brynjolf exclaimed.

"Trust me, he needs to hear me out." Isobel said firmly. "Honestly." She looked intently at both of them. Brynjolf groaned heavily.

"Run it by me first, I don't want him ripping off your head again." He said and grabbed her by the arm, leading her to a wooden table as Rune watched them go. "Now, what is this you need to say to Mercer so bad about?" Brynjolf inquired as they sat down.

"That I'm not going be a permanent member." Isobel said, trying to read Brynjolf's face for a reaction. She knew she needed to get the message across to Mercer to give him a heads up for when she got Gray Fox's summons, but she didn't want to tell of her botched assignment and how she failed her Guild.

"We don't invest in crooks who are only in to raise enough coin to take off again. This Guild isn't a seasonal job lass, it's a lifetime commitment." Brynjolf said with his teeth clenched. "If you're one of them, leave now."

"I'm not. I belong to another Guild. The Thieves Guild in the Imperial City." This changed Brynjolf's gaze from angry to confused.

"Why are you here then? I hear that Guild's off good."

"It is. But..." Isobel struggled to string together the right words. "I was a part of a heist that went sour. I have some hounds on my trail trying to sniff me out so Gray Fox sent me here until it was safe again."

"You know Gray Fox?" Brynjolf sat more upright.

"Yes...we're...we're close." Isobel stammered. "I need to speak to Mercer about this so he knows ahead of time. It will be a long while before the mere possibility of me going back is even relevant, but I'm willing to work hard to earn my keep. I have proof of everything." Isobel pulled out her sealed letter.

"What happened on your heist? Should we expect bounty hunters bursting in through our ceiling and killing everyone to get at you?" Brynjolf questioned. The answer was yes, but Isobel couldn't afford to be kicked out, this was her only hope.

"No. They'll be looking for me in Cyrodiil, they can't enter Skyrim."

"And the heist?"

"It was...um.." Isobel wanted to tell the truth to Brynjolf, she respected him, and she tried to be honest without giving too many details. "I was in charge of stealing something important, _very_ important, from someone with a lot of power. But almost every part of my plan fell apart, it was too dangerous for me to hang around."

"That's pretty vague, lass. What else happened?"

"It doesn't matter." Isobel said assertively. "What matters is that I'm here and eager to work until I can return home." Brynjolf was still unsatisfied. "Listen, I doubt you know every thief in here's back story."

"Fine, I'll let you see Mercer." Brynjolf said exasperatedly. He got up and led her to Mercer's desk, where the Guild Master was reading over a ledger. "Boss. Somebody wants to speak with you." Icy eyes looked up from the documents, unwelcoming and cold.

"The new girl? What does you want?"

"She needs to-"

"Let her speak for herself." Mercer hissed, his gaze boring into Isobel.

"I need to talk to you about some important matters involving my contribution to the Guild." She said, not a single quiver in her voice. She was switching into business mode, and she needed Mercer to know she wasn't afraid of him.

"Oh, do you?" He said, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bottle of mead, uncorking it with a small _pop_. "You think I'm the type of leader to have his lowest understudies bully him around like a spoiled child? You definitely didn't show such courage last night."

"I think you'll find my terms satisfying, given your already blooming resent for me."

"You just like to say it as it is, don't you?"

"I only lie when it brings me profit." Isobel leaned on the desk towards him.

"Brynjolf, you can leave." Mercer said after he took a modest gulp of the mead and propped his feet up on his desk. Brynjolf hesitated, looking at Isobel who gave him a stern nod. He turned and sped away, tapping a Wood Elf and a muscular man on the shoulders and gesturing for them to keep an eye on things.

"So, what is it you so desperately want to chat about?" Mercer asked.

"I need you to be aware that I'm not going to be a permanent member." Mercer's reaction was the same as Brynjolf's before she continued. "I belong to the Thieves Guild in Cyrodiil. I have some Imperials I needed to shake off my back so I fled to Skyrim. I'm here until I'm sent word that it's safe for me to go home." Isobel held out her letter, and Mercer snatched it briskly before cutting open the seal and reading the contents.

"Gray Fox..." He muttered, eyeing the signature at the bottom. "It's been years since we've heard from him. He hasn't really been chummy with us as much as he used to since we've been going under. Why, the last letter he sent was to Delvin seven years ago... So, I'm just supposed to let a little bounty dodger live under my roof while she waits for the bad guys to go home?"

"Yes. I'm not sure how long I'll be here, but I promise you I will use the maximum extent of all my skills on the jobs you see fit for me...and I won't ask for a cut on any of my tasks." With this Mercer perked up.

"No pay, eh? What's the catch?"

"You give me food, bed and protection, and money for lodging if I'm to travel abroad. Other than that, everything I steal, pickpocket, and bribe will be given to the Guild and you can keep _all_ of the employers pay." Isobel took out the extra gems and jewelry she had stolen from the Argonian's strongbox the day before and placed them in front of Mercer. "However, once Gray Fox bids for my return I will leave immediately."

"You make a very tempting offer." He said, dropping his feet to the ground and sitting up. "But how do I know you'll keep your word."

"I do anything that breaks this deal and you have permission to ship me back to the Imperial City in a crate of dead skeevers."

"Make it live skeevers and I'll agree."

"Done."

"Good."

And they shook hands.

* * *

 

Brynjolf was standing at his stall in the market, lightly tapping a rhythm on the wooden counter. The sun was struggling to shine through the clouds, submerging some streets into shadows and some into warm light. Brynjolf was lucky enough to be on the sunny side as he called out his elixirs to passerbys.

"Live for thousands of years, only for a hundred gold." He said half-heartedly, worried about what was going on in the cistern below him. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours and his new recruit was stepping on the Guild Master's toes. He couldn't help but wonder what position Isobel held within her own Guild that made her so headstrong, she was so young yet but her ego was the size of an accomplished veteran. He was beginning to regret his decision bringing her in, but as he recalled her display in the market the previous day and her infiltration into the Guild he couldn't imagine passing her up. Brynjolf could tell she was going to be a great asset, if only he could rein her in a bit. He would have to work on that. In his peripherals he saw who had to be Isobel emerge out from the Temple of Mara's yard.

"Armor looks good, you don't look like a ratty little girl anymore." He said as she approached the stall.

"You said Delvin and Vex would have jobs for me! Both of them said they didn't have anything! What Guild doesn't have jobs?!" Isobel hissed once she got close. "And is Vex always such a bitch?"

"Relax, lass. That's just how she gets things done. And we don't know all your strengths and weaknesses yet, we wouldn't give you a fishing job if you couldn't pickpocket."

"You saw me pickpocket yesterday."

"No, I saw you plant something. Not even the same thing." Brynjolf saw her get disappointed. "Listen, tonight we'll meet in the training room and you can show me what you can do. Once we feel more confident in you we'll give you some work. I can only imagine you want some coin after-"

"I'm not getting paid. That's one of the terms I have with Mercer." Isobel said as she jumped and sat on the stone wall by Brynjolf's stand. "I do work for free and he gives me a temporary home."

"Really? That's a hefty bargain to keep." Brynjolf said and rubbed his chin. He'd heard of men who gave a large chunk of their cut up but not entirely.

"If that's what it takes I'll do it." Isobel shrugged, kicking her feet against the wall. "Who's your admirer over there?" She nodded her head to a young woman, hiding behind a produce stand and watching the two thieves chat. Brynjolf knew it was Svana Far-Shield, the bunkhouse maid was infatuated with him, and he shot her a coy little wink before she blushed profusely and fled. Isobel's laugh reminded Brynjolf of a child's.

"Svana Far-Shield, a maid over at Haelga's bunkhouse. I suppose you should learn about the townsfolk here, always good knowing your targets."

"Yeah, I'll admit stealing in a foreign country with complete strangers is somewhat intimidating. " Isobel grinned as she reached for a Falmer Blood Elixir. "Can I drink one? Just for kicks? Maybe someone passing will see me drinking it and buy one."

"You don't want to drink that stuff, lass." Brynjolf chuckled.

"Thank gods you're smiling. I was almost scared the alluring man I met in the market yesterday was a ghost." Isobel snickered and pushed his arm with her foot, causing him to smile more.

"Yeah? Well, I got certain new recruit that's making me a little stressed, so forgive me." Brynjolf said as he grabbed her foot and threw it back.

"You shouldn't be, I can handle myself." She said earnestly. "Maybe it _is_ a good idea for me to just settle in a bit before doing work though. I need to scout this area and learn about the people, get to know my new comrades, and I really need to figure out how you guys do things around here."

"It's simple. Do what we say."

"Why would I want to be a thrall? I like to know the reasons behind the jobs I do."

"I don't know how they do things in Cyrdoiil lass, but you're a guest, you play by our rules while under our roof. Do you understand me?" Brynjolf said. He took the bottle from her hands and grabbed her chin, forcing her to make eye contact with him. Her pupils were constricted in the direct sunlight, making the blue irises stand out even more. "You obviously held a good rank back in your Guild, but in this one you're the bottom of the pile. You mess with dangerous people, lass." Isobel seemed to get the hint now that he spoke sternly into her eyes.

"I know. I'm just not used to so much tension, but I suppose that's because of your Guild's bad luck." She said looking down as he let go. "In my Guild we all get along, we care for and support each other. Yeah, there are senior members, and yes, I'm one of them..." Brynjolf figured as much but it still left him a little shocked that someone so young held such a high rank."...But that didn't stop us from socializing with lesser ranks or give us reason to intimidate them like Vex or Mercer do."

"Well, our Guild's a business, we intimidate and push so that we may feel consequences if we fail. If a lad is on the verge of being arrested, he's going to try a damn lot harder to escape if he knows there's going to be an angry den of thieves awaiting his return. He's not going to try as hard if his boss is just going to bail him out and coddle him. I try not care about any of the members on a personal scale as much as I can lass, makes things too complicated."

"Maybe it's better having someone risk their life because they love you, not because they fear you." Isobel scowled. Brynjolf's head snapped to face her, surprised by her serious tone. "Maybe that's why your squabbling Guild is in sewers and mine is living in luxury." He felt a wave of anger wash over him, but before he could open his mouth someone called his name.

"Brynjolf!" It was the court wizard, Wylandria. "That Greenmote you gave me didn't generate the radiation of viscerotonic acrasia you said it would. Didn't you say you checked for lice?"

"Yes, Wylandira, I did. Try again in uh... three nights, it should recharge by then.." Byrnjolf looked back at the stone wall to see it was empty. "Damn it." He muttered as his eyes searched the area.

"Damn it...? Of course! You're a genius, Brynjolf!" Wylandriah cried as she rushed back to Mistveil Keep with the grace of a horker, leaving Brynjolf rubbing his face in his hands with frustration. Isobel was definitely going to be a challenge.

Almost as soon as Wylandirah was out of sight another figure approached. This time it was Maul.

"Dirge told me you got new meat. Short, with black hair?" He barked.

"Yes. Isobel was inducted last night." Brynjolf replied. ' _Shit, now what did she do_?'

"Tell her she still hasn't paid for the information I gave her." He growled. "And I'm not letting it go."

"Here." Brynjolf took out his coin pouch. "How much did she-"

"She didn't offer coin, and I don't want it." Maul interrupted, his expression turned more twisted. "She offered her body, and I don't like getting ripped off."

"You touch that lass and you'll have the entire Guild to answer to, I don't care about your service to Maven, I will personally open up your belly." Brynjolf spoke slowly and deliberately, making sure Maul saw him clutch his dagger. "Her debt is gone, that's final." And Maul, knowing he had no authority over Brynjolf, stormed off cursing before punching a wooden crate out of anger. Brynjolf breathed out in relief and continued running his stand, keeping his green eyes peeled for the young girl without avail.

It was only when the sun was over half way across the sky did he catch a glimpse of a shadow darting across the Black-Briar Manor's roof.

* * *

 

The mosquitoes were starting to come out when Brynjolf decided to pack up his stand. He walked into the Ragged Flagon that night empty handed. He hadn't sold a single bottle that day, but was too distracted with how he was going to manage Isobel to be concerned.

"Hey, laddie." He half-smiled at Dirge as he entered the tavern. He untied his blue overcoat and hung it on a chair across from Delvin before plopping down into it.

"Something troublin' ya? I'll listen." Delvin looked up from the letter he was examining. "Something to do with new girl I'm guessing?" Devlin was always such a rock to lean on, Brynjolf always wondered how he was able to do such things without getting exhausted.

"Aye, she's turning out to be a fire cracker." He replied. Vekel walked over and handed him a bottle of mead.

"She didn't seem that way last night with Mercer." Vekel critiqued as he walked back to the bar.

"Trust me lad, she's definitely going to be trouble if we don't handle her. She had a talk with Mercer today..."

"Aye, he told us 'bout that." Delvin said, finally folding the letter and putting it down. "I was makin' sure her letter here is authentic, which it is, got the Fox's seal and handwritin' and everythin'. Real gutsy she is, but I suppose she did need to tell Mercer right away that she would be leavin'. I can't help but wonder why people are after her."

"I don't know either, she just said a heist went bad but she didn't want to talk about it. It must've been something big, she's too skilled for low-risk jobs and she even said she was a senior member at her Guild. Which may explain her big head." Brynjolf said as he took a swig of mead. It wasn't that good, but he needed a drink.

" _She's_ a senior member?! She's so young, she looks like she's barely in her twenties!" Delvin exclaimed.

"Aye, but I watched her as she told me, the lass isn't lying. She said her and Gray Fox were close, maybe that's why she got her position." Brynjolf said. "I need advice Delvin, you're always so good with that. How do I rein her in before she gets herself killed in here?"

"Hmm...I'm not sure." Delvin scratched his bald head. "It seems we need to break her, assert authority, but try to keep that fire in her from completely dyin' out. That fierceness often helps in our line of work. But how we tame a fire without puttin' it out?"

"...I don't know, Delv."

"We take away things she can burn." Delvin said sternly. "We take away a few logs of wood. Those foundations she has that fuels her need to be separated from her, at least until she goes home. But we have to leave her with somethin', otherwise she'll just be ordinary, we want to make sure she keeps some of her spunk."

"How do I know enough is enough?

"When she stops hatin' your guts and starts wantin' to spend time with ya. Whatever she thinks 'bout ya now will turn into anger if you're to break her properly."

"Well, we're going to train tonight. I want to see how skilled she is in combat, maybe I could rough her up a little bit." Brynjolf said absently, he was usually serious with the juniors when it came to training, but not downright cruel. He wasn't looking forward to it. Devlin saw his unease.

"You said it first, she needs to be reined in before somethin' bad happens to her."

"You're right. Thank you, Delvin." Brynjolf sighed, finishing his drink in silence before standing up. "I better go see her now, it's already getting late."

"Remember, it's for her own good." Delvin said and gave Brynjolf a final comforting smile.


	6. Cliff Racing

It was a pleasantly pink twilight when Isobel crept into the Riften cemetery. That morning after her tense discussion with Mercer she had asked around the seniors for jobs, and although nobody had anything Devlin did tell her about the secret passage in the grave yard's mausoleum. After checking over her shoulder one more time to make sure the coast was absolutely clear, Isobel turned and pressed the Guild's symbol etched into the stone sarcophagus with her boot. The floor beneath her lurched and started to scrape open, revealing a set of stairs and trapdoor she was told led directly into the cistern.

The glass bottles in the sack under her arm tinkled like music as she closed the covert entrance and made her way down.

She had spent the day scouting the entire settlement, exploring streets and houses and venturing around the docks. She also tried to learn as much from the townsfolk as she could, eavesdropping and shadowing them around to watch their habits, all while making sure Brynjolf didn't see her from his market stand. It was midday when Isobel introduced herself to the two guards she met her first night at Riften. Turned out they had deals with the Guild, they were given pay to look the other way when it came to enforcing the law on Guild members.

"If I was in any other town, I'd turn down the offer." The female guard, Tabitha, said as she removed her helmet in the afternoon heat. Her flushed face was remarkably pretty, with large hazel eyes and pink lips. Isobel wondered why anyone that gorgeous got stuck with a job that consisted of concealing her face all the time. "But in Riften, the Guild and Maven are in charge. Someone finds out I'm in cahoots with the Guild, there's nothing they can do. There's no other city in Skyrim like that."

"Mhm." The second guard grunted as he swung his sword around absentmindedly.

"Be careful where you swing that thing, Hans!" Tabitha shouted, making him drop his weapon clumsily.

Isobel had also stolen a considerable amount of drinks from the Bee and Barb. The owner, an Argonian by the name of Talen-Jei, had told her all about his conquests in mixing interesting alcoholic beverages, and she had decided she would snag some to share with her new comrades. She didn't care what Brynjolf said, she was going to make friends and support her temporary family as best she could... with the exception of Mercer... and Vex if she continued to be as cold as she was that morning.

"There she is!" Called a dark haired man with thick eyebrows the second Isobel reached the bottom of the cistern's ladder. He was wearing a sleeveless version of the Thieves Guild armor, accompanied with a friendly smile. "You're making waves around here. I like that. They said your name is Isobel, right?"

"That's me. Who am I talking to?"

"Vipir... Vipir the Fleet." He replied, noticing the bulging bag she held under her arm. "Already been working the streets have you?"

"Yeah, thought I'd bring a few drinks for everybody." Isobel said, opening the sack to reveal the bottles inside. Vipir laughed, his whole body surging with energy and giddiness, it spread to Isobel like a pox and made her grin as well.

"It's been awhile since we boys had drinks together! Usually if we wanted to get drunk we had to go the Flagon but it's not that fun when you've got a bunch of serious seniors staring at you." He reached into the bag to examine a bottle. "Cliff Racers?! We _are_ going to have a good time tonight!" He paused and looked at her with a comically arched brow. "Did you know it was my birthday?"

"No! Happy birthday!" Isobel smiled widely. "I'm really glad I decided to get drinks now!"

"Aye, me too. It'll be nice having a bit of a celebration. Not just for me, it's rare for us guys to let up a bit and have fun. Hey, Thrynn! Niruin! The rookie brought us booze, go find Cynric!" He called out to the muscular man and Wood Elf she saw that morning, they both looked curious and almost confused before they turned and wandered off.

"Should I just set these on that table?" Isobel said, pointing to the wooden table across the cistern.

"Aye, that should have enough room." Vipir was almost skipping. "It's too bad Rune went out to Windhelm this afternoon, you would've like him, all the ladies do."

"I did meet him, he seems really sweet." Isobel said as they sped across the rotting wood bridging the steams of sewer water. As Isobel and Vipir brushed the thousands of crumbs off the table and pulled every bottle out of her sack, the three other men walked out of the passage leading to the training room and took their own seats, staring at the expensive drinks before them. Isobel became sandwiched between Vipir and the large muscular man, Thrynn. He had sleeveless armor on too, showcasing his thick tendrils of muscle and protruding veins. If he wasn't intimidating to Isobel already, the red war paint he had on his cheeks really topped it off.

"Not even twenty-four hours ago we were about to gut you, and now you bring us Cliff Racers? Impressive." A man spoke from under his hood as he popped open his first bottle, Isobel thought it had to be Cynric. "I'm starting to think you're gonna be alright."

"Ugh." The Wood Elf, Niruin, coughed after taking a sip. "That stuff's strong, and not near as good at the vintages from my father's winery."

"Hey, she nicked these for us so be grateful, it's a lot better than the urine Vekel sells!" Crynic retorted, before turning to her. "Isobel, I'm Cynric. You need any lockpick training you come to me, not Vex. She's good, but the only thing you'll learn from her are cunning new ways to be passive-aggressive."

"Thanks, if anyone wants to learn a few Illusion spells then I'm your girl. That was my specialty in my Guild." Isobel took a swig from her bottle and almost choked. She hadn't expected it to have so much bite, it burned down her throat into her stomach, making her whole insides feel warm. The aftertaste reminded her of the brandy back home.

"You're in another Guild? What do you mean?" Vipir asked as his eyes watered from the drink. "What are you doing here?"

"I got in trouble with an important heist, I'm just waiting here until my boss says it's all clear to go home. Back to Cyrodiil."

"Yes, Thrynn and I eavesdropped on that little meeting you had with Mercer. You're quite brave... almost dangerously so." Niruin's slanted elf eyes peered at her from under his hood and Isobel couldn't help but feel entranced by them. "We overheard that you know Gray Fox? What is he like?" The table all looked at her.

"Well... he's very clever and smart, even in his wrath he stays grounded. He always knew how to raise our spirits, get some fight back in us, even when things looked impossible to overcome..." Isobel was starting to daydream, yearning to see his face again. She placed her lips back on her bottle and drank. The burning was starting to become numbing.

"Ooh I know that look!" Vipir twittered. "You're in love with him! You're Gray Fox's lover!"

"Gross, no I-"

"Why in Oblivion would you know that look, Vipir?" Thrynn sneered. "I haven't seen a woman give you the time of day since the day I joined here."

"I've seen that look in a lady's eyes plenty of times!" Vipir argued as the men chuckled and rolled their eyes.

"Like in Sapphire?" Niruin grinned.

"I have! I swear it!" Vipir said to the men who where now roaring with laughter. Even though Isobel didn't understand what was funny she laughed too.

"Who's this Sapphire lady?" She asked.

"She's a fellow thief here, out on a job somewhere now, but lately Vipir's been making it his life's mission to bed the girl." Thyrnn said. "As if she was even remotely attractive."

"Hey! Don't talk about her like that!"

"Oh, but it's alright calling her a stupid cow?"

"You called her a cow? No wonder she's not interested..." Isobel slurred slightly, feeling the alcohol drifting in her blood.

"As if you're good with women, Thrynn!" Vipir yelled back.

"Yeah, Thrynn, you used to be a bandit." Cynric piped up, sloshing the liquid in his bottle around. "Is it true what I hear about how bandits get... you know, _real_ friendly with the wildlife?"

"Fuck off, Cynric. At least I bed _some_ women, you celibate prick." Thrynn growled. Isobel almost got up and switched to the other side of the table upon hearing he was a bandit, but her still somewhat clear-thinking mind told her that would raise suspicion in him. Instead she scooted over the bench a little so their arms weren't touching.

"You guys shouldn't talk about women such way in front of a lady." Niruin nodded to Isobel, reminding the men of her presence.

"What, you think I'm sensitive about sex?!" Isobel hiccuped. "I bet I've slept with more men than all you combined!"

"Well, none of us have slept with any men, so you're probably right." Cynric was starting to crack up. His snicker didn't match his handsome appearance, it reminded Isobel of a gasping donkey.

"You've had sex?" Vipir blurted. "What're you? Twelve?"

"I'm twenty-two!" Isobel shouted back. Their voices were definitely starting to get louder. "I lost my virginity to a Khajiit when I was fifteen!"

"A Khajiit? Isn't that bestiality?" Vipir said before receiving a sharp rap from Niruin.

"I've never had Khajiit, what're they like?" Thrynn asked curiously.

"Well, their fur is very soft and warm, and their claws are good if you like a little pain with your pleasure. But the barbs on their manhood made my first time a lot more painful than it needed to be."

"They have barbs _where_?!" Vipir exclaimed. Laughter erupted from the depths of Isobel's belly and she couldn't stop.

* * *

 

When Brynjolf entered the cistern he was immediately met with the thundering, painful sound of a rowdy bunch of men singing at the top of their lungs.

_"So kiss me, I'm shitfaced!_

_I'm soaked, I'm soiled and brown!_

_In the trousers, she kissed me!_

_And I only bought her one round!"_

At the wooden table he saw all of the members that weren't out on jobs, Thrynn, Cynric, Vipir and Niruin, all beyond drunk and swaying to their song. And of course, Isobel was in the middle of it all, rosy and flushed from drink. He sighed, exhausted, and walked over to the table. Isobel spotted him first and shouted over the obnoxious chorus.

"Brynjolf!" She called, all bitterness towards him that morning had apparently vanished. "Did you know it's Vipir's birthday! How could you not know? You live with him!"

"Brynjolf! Did you know Khajiit have barbs on their pricks?!" Vipir stated ten times louder than he needed to. Isobel punched him in the arm.

"I thought we were going to train tonight." Brynjolf said, standing at the head of the table with his arms crossed.

"It's Vipir's birthday! C'mon, have a drink! I nicked some special stuff from the Bee and Barb-"

" _I thought we were going to train tonight_." He repeated. The men started to quieten, Isobel tried to keep her smile as best she could.

"Bryn, I-"

"Don't call me Bryn." He hated being the one to break up the fun, but he knew if he was to keep Isobel from her own demise he needed to be tough. "Meet me in the training room. _Now_." Silently she got up, the men sitting all droopy-eyed and solemn. She had to balance herself on the filthy walls as she stumbled into the training room.

"Now, what are your go-to weapons, lass? The ones you are the strongest at?" Brynjolf said, pulling up the sleeves of his orange shirt and stretching his neck.

"Illusion spells and daggers." Isobel said, trying not to hiccup.

"Spells? I suppose those could be useful. What about archery?"

"I can do it if I need to but usually I just..." But the rest of her sentence was inaudible slurring.

"Okay," Brynjolf said, bringing out his own dagger. "I assume you know how to spare?"

"Mhm, but I can hardly stand, I don't want to hurt-"

"Stop. Just fight." Brynjolf snapped. Isobel pulled her dagger out and lunged, but Brynjolf leisurely stepped out of the way and kicked her down. With a stalled reflex the small Breton rolled onto her back and sprang up, landing on her feet. However, her leftover momentum caused her to stumble over again.

"Why are we doing this now?" She slurred, finally standing up only to have Brynjolf push her down again.

"Because if you make it a habit to get piss drunk you'll need to be able to fight in case of emergency." He said, this time extending a hand and lifting her up. "Now, show me what you claim you can do."

Isobel faked a stab to the left before spinning to the right, but it was still slow enough that Brynjolf was able to grab her wrist and squeeze. Breathing through clenched teeth she clasped the blade, only to drop it with a gasp as his grip tightened.

"Now try again."

"What is wrong with you!?" Isobel fell over trying to pick up her dagger.

"Maul came to me today, he said you own him something. What are you going to do when he corners you in some deserted dark alley?" Brynjolf hollered at her, pushing her. Isobel managed to try to stab his leg as she wavered on the floor, but he kicked out his foot and sent her dagger flying across the room. Isobel slowly stood up, her wobbly legs threatening to give out any second. "Show me lass, how someone like _you_ became a senior mem-"

Brynjolf was met with a solid punch in the jaw. He was suddenly so overcome with terror he collapsed and began to pull at his hair. He felt he needed to run, to escape, but his legs wouldn't move, his heart was beating out of his chest and he couldn't breathe. He couldn't tell if he was whimpering but it was entirely possible, he couldn't hear himself over the sound of hacking steel into wet flesh and children screaming. He was on the very verge of screaming himself when he felt a hand on his shoulder and the fear had vanished as soon as it had come. It left him wondering if it had really happened at all. He looked up to see a bleary-eyed Isobel crying over him.

"I'm so sorry!" She sobbed. "I shouldn't... I should never have done that. I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, lass." He said, pulling her shaking body into his arms. Surprisingly he was completely at peace, the most relaxed he had been all day. "You did nothing wrong, you were showing me how you fight."

He stroked her hair as she cried into his chest, burying his face into her neck. She smelled like alcohol and leather for sure, but there was the slightest and most peculiar scent of cream in her skin. Brynjolf sighed contentedly. Both of them were sitting on the floor, rocking and embracing for several minutes until the calmness ceased. Brynjolf brashly threw her off and scrambled away, completely speechless. He stood himself up and stared at her, frozen in his astonishment.

"What did you do?" He muttered in shock, Isobel struggling to even focus her vision on him. "What did you do to me?!" He repeated more angrily.

"I'm sorry Bryn! Please, I won't do it-." Isobel's words were drowned out by the vomit hurling from her lips. "Ugh, Cliff Racers hurt even more coming up." She coughed, wiping her mouth before passing out. With a grimace Brynjolf stormed out of the room.

 _'Let her wake up in her own puke._ ' He cursed as he rubbed his sore jaw. He felt beyond frustrated at the fact that he was just cuddling with one of the rookies. He saw the table of men stare curiously at him with somber expressions as he entered the cistern, although Cynric looked like he was trying to hold in giggles. Brynjolf sped across the cistern in a huff. He was going to sleep above ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics to Kiss Me, I'm Shitfaced belong to the wonderful Dropkick Murphy's. I'll be writing most of the many tunes Isobel will sing, but by the gods did I want her to sing that one.


	7. Patience is a Thief's Virtue

26th of Hearth Fire

"Pull more with your back, not your arms."

Isobel raised the bow and aimed at the mannequin across the room, cheek to cheek with Niruin who was trying to see if she was aiming properly. She fired, the arrow hitting the second ring of the bullseye.

"Alright, that's a little better." Niruin said unconvincingly.

"C'mon. It would've killed the guy." Isobel exasperated.

It had been four weeks to the day already since she joined the Guild, and they were painful. Brynjolf was preventing her from doing any jobs that weren't inside Riften, and she was going crazy being confined within the city walls. Being idle was never something that boded well with Isobel, and neither did sitting around in one spot for any uncertain amount of time, let alone in putrid sewers. Almost a month and Isobel still hadn't gotten used to the smell. Whenever Brynjolf did miraculously give her a purpose, it was either extorting a few coins from petty locals in debt to the Guild or burglary jobs in the dullest of houses with nothing but pots, pans, and dust. She was miserable.

She at least wasn't so lonely, she was becoming good friends with most of the junior members and at least one of them was always at the Guild if the others were gone on a job. There were plenty of drinks, and long strolls around the city. Little by little they started opening up to each other, narrating their origin stories and how they came into their line of business.

Cynic had told her about his past as a jail breaker while they took turns firing small rocks at passerbys with his slingshot, their hiding spot behind Brynjolf's empty stand in the marketplace providing them full coverage.

"So people hired you to get arrested so you can break someone out of jail?" Isobel whispered, enjoying the warm Hearth Fire sun as Cynric hit a priestess of Mara at the back of the head.

"Yeah, usually it's to free someone the client cares about... and sometimes to... well, to kill someone on their behalf." Cynric seemed rather ashamed of this fact, and although it was surprising for Isobel she was well aware of the reasons why some jail breakers weren't allowed in her "blood-free guarantee" Guild. "Either way, the trick was in the escape, and that's where my strengths with sneaking and lock picking came in handy."

"Why'd you quit if you were making so much money?" Isobel asked, taking the slingshot from Cynric and loading her ammunition.

"Well, as a jail breaker, you work alone. No Guild to back you up. I'd do jobs for the Thieves Guild and the Dark Brotherhood, but if things didn't go as planned, I was on my own." Crynric spoke as Isobel fired her stone at the rear end of bald headed Dunmer woman, who jumped and shrieked loudly. "The last jailbreak I attempted failed. I was imprisoned in High Rock for three years before they let me go. After that I promised myself I'd never do it again. I think I realized my skills would bring me more wealth as a thief rather than an assassin. Killing someone in a jail is much easier than what the Dark Brotherhood deals with. I guess I wanted to play it safe and I already knew Delv-" He stopped when the Dunmer woman spotted their whereabouts, charging down on them before the pair managed to scramble to their feet and sprint off.

"If that was a live man charging at us I wouldn't complain, but the point is you didn't hit what you were aiming for." Niruin scolded in the training room, Isobel notching another arrow. She knew he was a perfectionist due to his upper-class upbringing in Valenwood, but his standards were even higher than some of her most staunch trainers in Cyrodiil. Isobel couldn't help but wonder if his occasional grumpiness was due to the fact that when he was kicked out of Valenwood for his hedonistic thieving he joined up with a Guild living in sewers instead of a huge mansion, the adjustment was sure frustrating for Isobel.

She had also met the rest of the members who weren't there on her first few days. The shy Etienne, who spent most of his time reading books, and the venomous Sapphire. Isobel wasn't sure what was with the women within the Guild and why they were so much more belligerent than the men, even Tonilia was starting to give her dirty looks for some reason. Isobel was caught between trying to win their affections and build trust with them, knowing it would be in her best interest, but her pride wanted to spite them.

"Niruin." Vex strolled into the training room, the acoustics on the wet stone walls making her voice even more crisp and sharp than it already was. "I think we have a nice wealthy home for you to break into. Think you can clear the place of valuables and keep it quiet?"

"I'll see what I can do." Niruin said, continuing to straighten Isobel's bow arm as the two women glared at each other.

"Helping Brynjolf's runt are you? Just make sure her arrows fly and not her mouth." Vex sneered.

 _'How can she imply me having a loud mouth when we never speak?'_ Isobel fumed silently.

"Come meet me in the Flagon right away." Vex commanded briskly before taking off, Isobel making her drawn arrow follow the blonde head out of the room.

"Don't even joke about that." Niruin said and pulled her bow back. "She's like that with everyone."

"I didn't hear her insult _you_ just now. And she refuses to-"

"Shush, hit that mannequin once more and I need to go." And with that Niruin slowly stepped back, letting Isobel take full control of her shot. She inhaled a deep breath, pulled the arrow back and aimed at the target's head. Imagining white-blonde hair sprout from the wood, its faceless visage now looking at her with a sour scowl, Isobel let her arrow fly. Niruin registered the head shot sooner than Isobel and started a steady slow clap. "Maybe I should have Vex sit in on our little lessons, might give you that grit you rely on so much and give Vexy and I a little time together."

"Bah, don't tell me you fancy her too." Isobel frowned as she walked over and pulled the arrows wedged in the mannequin.

"Don't get too jealous Issy, I'd always choose your company over hers." And with an elfish grin he exited the room, his parting words finally making a smile crack on Isobel's lips.

 _'At least I'm doing something right._ '

After putting away the bow and arrows she started her own exercises, she was getting good combat practice with Brynjolf but needed to keep her strength and flexibility up if she wanted to stay in shape. At her old Guild, Isobel was involved with exercises that pushed both physical and mental limits, but the only skill this Guild pushed was her patience.

Isobel slowly warmed her muscles up by gentle stretching, and gradually she pushed herself into more and more painful contortions. Her elasticity had helped her twist out of situations more than once, and she wasn't going to lose it twiddling her thumbs in a sewer. She continued bending herself for several minutes before positioning herself for a handstand.

Balance. Balance and breath. That was what she was taught since she was a child. Isobel took a moment to focus on both those things before she launched her feet upwards, her wrists and arms trembling for only a second before her stance solidified and became strong. She was concentrating so hard on her precious breath and balance she started when she heard boots stomp into the room.

Standing upright before she tumbled over, Isobel turned to see Sapphire rummaging around the collection of cheap practice swords before taking one in each hand. She had chestnut hair and eyes the color of her name, she wasn't bad looking at all but her appearance would've been enhanced thousandfold if it wasn't for the scowl tattooed on her face. Isobel opened her mouth to form an impersonal but polite greeting, but the woman cut her off.

"I have nothing to say to you, so get out of my face." Sapphire hissed, slamming her shoulder into Isobel as she stormed past her. She brought up her two swords and started to dual wield against what remained of the practice dummy, its trunk of a body already carved out from taking so many blows.

"Gladly." Isobel scoffed as she sauntered herself out of the room, hands in her pockets. When she entered the morose cistern she was met with Mercer's icy stare from his desk. Isobel met them firmly, nodding her head in recognition before walking straight into Delvin's chest.

"Watch yourself girl, Hans told me ya did the same thing to him when ya approached the Riften gates the first time." He said with a small smirk.

"You know Hans? I mean, I know him and Tabitha have a deal going on with the Guild but you're the one they speak to?" Isobel said, trying to shake off her embarrassment.

"Aye, I see them once a week to give 'em their pay. Might not be able to keep even that up with the way things are goin' on around here." Delvin sighed. "Come, have a drink with me in the Flagon."

"It's morning." Delvin snorted at her comment. It wasn't really a secret Isobel was always up for a drink, she had gotten more than drunk a fair number of times and some days she could be seen with a bottle as early as sunrise. She couldn't help it, she didn't know what else to do after her nightmares.

"Well, Vekel will make ya a tea then. C'mon." Delvin led her out the cistern and down the hall to the tavern. Isobel was not looking forward to going inside, and was mildly pissed at Delvin for dragging her there. She was dreading loitering about with the seniors, however, when they entered only Vekel and Dirge were in sight, and Tonilia far off on her porch. "See, it's not so bad in here. You're obviously just havin' a wee bit of a hard time in this place. Sit." He gestured at the nearest table, and as Isobel seated herself Delvin poured her a tankard of wine. Unable to resist despite her previous objection to drinking in the morning, she accepted the cup. Once he handed it to her he raised his own.

"For the Guild." He toasted.

"For the Guild." She answered and they drank. It felt strange, the chair Isobel sat in was Brynjolf's usual chair, and she felt like she was intruding on his territory.

"So, makin' any new friends, hm?" Devlin asked as he placed down his drink.

"Brynjolf said this place isn't about making friends." Isobel muttered.

"Ah, well, he's a bit dodgy when it comes to that stuff." Devlin said and waved his hand. Even though his voice was brash and roguish it made Isobel relax, she felt like she finally going to talk with a senior member that wasn't going to chew her out.

"Why?" She inquired, hoping Delvin had the answer to why Brynjolf had switched from her biggest fan to her biggest challenge.

"He along with the rest of us are too busy tryin' to make ends meet to concern ourselves with bein' friendly." Delvin brought his tankard to his lips again.

"But you're being friendly right now."

"Oh? Smart one, are ya?" He said as he raised his eyebrows at her from above his cup. "As it turns out I am tryin' to make an end meet."

"What do you mean?" Isobel caught Vekel staring at her and he sharply turned back to wiping the bar counter.

"I mean I know Brynjolf hasn't been givin' you jobs lately..." Delvin started.

"Do you have the faintest idea why?" Isobel said angrily. "I don't understand. I could get him the Jarl's crown if he asked and he won't even let me pickpocket a gods damned old woman."

"I'm sure he has his reasons, he's the most reliable man here and one of the only reasons this place hasn't completely gone under." Delvin said as he gestured around the room. "Look around ya. The Flagon, the Guild... it's all fallin' apart. A few decades ago, this place was as busy as your Imperial City. The Guild used to have a foothold in every major city in Skyrim. You wouldn't dare even lift an apple without checkin' with us. When things started goin' downhill around here, it became difficult to keep it all together. We lost fences, influential contacts and coin. It wasn't long before we lost what we depend on to survive... respect." He shook his head as he took another swig of wine. "Now, you're lucky if ya don't trip over a skeever instead."

"What actually happened here? Brynjolf just says it's bad luck, but is that really all it is?"

"Look, I know the others think I'm a bit daft for sayin' stuff like this, but I'm gonna give it to ya straight. Somethin' out there is piss-drunk mad at us. I don't know who or what it is, but it's beyond just you and me. We've been cursed."

Isobel tried not to roll her eyes. Of course, there was always someone who thought the answer to an unknown phenomenon was something to do with a ghost or superstition, as if that was what you _had_ to do when you couldn't explain something. Delvin saw her skepticism.

"You're not the only one to doubt me, but I stand by my word. And I'll even tell ya what we do. We spit in that curse's face and turn things around down here. Put things back the way they were."

"I could do so much for your Guild, Delvin." Isobel crossed her arms on the table. "And I want to, I truly want to. You've got some great boys in that cistern of yours, and I'm not one to leech off people's hospitality. Let me work my magic."

"I know ya do girl, I know ya want to help. But I don't have authority over Brynjolf, and I'm not one to sneak behind a superior's back and give you jobs without his permission. But I do need to clear this up with ya." Delvin paused to make sure she was listening. "Patience is one of the most valuable skills a thief can have, and one of the most underrated. A thief who cannot wait for the best opportune time to strike will fail, whether he's pickin' a pocket, pickin' a lock, or shadowin' a foe. You treat this place like every other job in your past, and things will start goin' better for both you and everyone else."

Isobel thought about this. She knew he had a point, but she wasn't sure if she could not react to those who pushed her, especially Brynjolf. To her simply tolerating such treatment was a sign of weakness and wasn't going to get her the respect she wanted, the respect Delvin himself just said thieves depended on. But if what Delvin was saying was true, that if Isobel just accepted what the Guild was throwing at her and take them by surprise, she would slowly start to move up.

"No. No, that's not me." She finally said. "Working in a Guild shouldn't be like picking a pocket, only those who crave power will sneak around and strike when it's beneficial to them. What I want is respect, and I'm not going to gain that by waiting to prove myself and grovelling to everyone in the meantime." Delvin looked impressed.

"You may survive us yet, Isobel." He sighed contently. Isobel cocked her head in confusion, but before she could ask him to elaborate she felt someone behind her chair. She didn't see or hear them but she knew exactly who it was.

"Hello, lass."

"Hey."

"Talking with Delvin, are you?" Brynjolf said as he pulled a seat from another table and sat on it backwards, leaning with his arms crossed over the back of the chair. "And drinking already?" He reached out to take Isobel's tankard before receiving an unnecessarily sharp slap on the hand. Delvin tried to suppress a chuckle but failed.

"We were just chit chatting' 'bout the predicament the Guild's in and so forth. Isobel thinks she can fix the damn place."

"I never said that! I said I just wanted to help!"

"Ah, did he tell you his 'something is piss-drunk mad at us' theory?" Brynjolf said with a boyish grin. Isobel felt like punching him in his smiling teeth, of course someone sly like him would bully her when no one was looking, and be all charming with folks around.

"Yes." Isobel replied returning the smile, making sure Brynjolf saw no signs of discomposure. "I don't believe it, but even so I'm still new to Skyrim and its primitive superstitions- I mean... bad luck curses." She spoke sweetly and directly to Brynjolf, trying to push his buttons in front of Delvin. "Then again... for all I know you could just be very shitty thieves."

"Aye, lass. Maybe we need the help of Gray Fox's exiled bounty dodger." Isobel almost boiled over at his words, and the playful tone in which Brynjolf said them and his handsomely cheeky face made her even madder.

"Oi ya two, break it up." Delvin said as he kicked Brynjolf under the table. "Brynjolf, ya had a meetin' with Mercer this morning, what'd he say? Anything about how to get out of this mess?"

"Mercer is being Mercer. If he has a plan to get us out of this rut, he isn't sharing it with me." Brynjolf grumbled. "We had to make some more cuts again, as of today I'm no longer going to be at the market stand."

"He's closin' ya down?" Delvin said, a little taken aback. Isobel could've guessed it though, one can only sell fraud merchandise for a while before people catch on and business stops.

"Aye, we might sell or rent out the stall if anybody wants it, but it wasn't bringing in enough coin to be worth it." Brynjolf shrugged, Isobel could tell he was disappointed, that he felt like a failure, and she reveled in it.

"What're ya gonna do now? Has he given ya any work?" Delvin asked.

"He has something in mind, he just needs to get things set up. From the way he was talking it sounds like I'm going to be spending more time in the cistern." Brynjolf said trying to smile.

"Wow, it sounds awful being stuck underground with nothing to do." Isobel said with as much sarcasm as she could possibly muster. Brynjolf's charming facade finally broke as he gave her a cold stare.


	8. Blood on her Hands

Isobel put her pick inside the window's keyhole, but it snapped before she even began turning.

"Hurry, Isobel!" Odette called from behind her. "They're coming, we need to go!"

Isobel resorted to slamming her fist into the window pane, but it didn't break. She put all her body weight into her punch only for the glass to remain intact.

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" The voice behind her screamed. The window finally broke into tiny, gleaming shards that flew into the night. Isobel leaped onto the ledge, staring at the ground that stretched leagues beneath her, knowing she had to jump. She turned and held out her hand.

Odette reached out, as their hands grasped each other's Isobel braced for the jump. Mid-leap, nothing separating them from the earth below, her stomach starting to drop as she fell in slow-motion, she felt a tug on her hand and looked to see Odette with a Penitus Oculatus agent behind her. With a thrust he shoved his sword through the base of her auburn head, the tip of the blade exiting through her mouth like a long metallic tongue. Odette's slack lips were open in a silent scream as she poured her blood onto Isobel.

"Get up, lass."

Isobel cried out, thrashing and punching the air. Still half-asleep she felt her wet face and shrieked loudly, her wild eyes flying open with fear. She was staring at the cistern's mossy stone ceiling. Still shaking she looked and saw Brynjolf sitting on the edge of her bed with an empty tankard, bewildered by her extreme reaction.

Isobel wiped her face and looked at her hands. No blood, just water. She must've fallen asleep after supper, maybe it was the soup that made her sluggish and in need of a nap. Gulping she tried to compose herself, but seeing that Etienne, Vipir, Thyrnn, Sapphire and Mercer were all staring at her from various points in the room made it harder for her not to shake.

"Are you alright?" Brynjolf asked, still frowning at her spectacle.

"Yes!" Isobel blurted defensively. "What do you want?" He seemed to look at her a moment longer.

"It's time for training. So get up, get ready and meet me in the training room." He said briskly, and with that he stood up and left her sweating and shaking. Not in fear, but in anger. Isobel still felt the blood on her hands.

* * *

 

Rune and Thrynn were sitting on some chests behind the large, round bullseye targets used for archery practice, watching the show before them. Isobel and Brynn had a session of beating the shit out of each other almost evening and watching them spar had become a sort of entertainment for the boys.

"She's bloody good." Rune muttered.

"Aye." Thrynn responded. Both Isobel and Brynjolf were brilliantly skilled at fighting with daggers, watching them move throughout each other bearing blades was almost poetry. Thrynn just couldn't help but wonder why Brynjolf was acting the way he was towards her, even if she won he somehow twisted her victory into a way that nullified it, and it seemed totally out of his character. They weren't even using the wooden, practice daggers but actual weapons.

"What'd I miss?" Vipir said as he sat beside Thrynn with a bowl of nuts.

"This isn't the blasted theatre Vipir, why are you eating?" Rune hissed.

"I'm hungry!" Vipir protested.

"Shh, look." Thrynn pointed. Isobel had somehow launched Brynjolf's blade into the air and kicked him to the ground before catching the falling dagger by its hilt and pointing it at Brynjolf's chin.

"Wait, where's her dagger? Was she disarmed?" Vipir started.

"She must've been. Watch, Brynjolf will make up some bullshit excuse about how her technique was wrong." The three stared intently.

"Impressive, lass. But while that dagger was in flight your focus strayed from your enemy." And with that he brandished a hidden stiletto from his sleeve and slit her weapon hand, making her yelp as her blood dripped from his blade.

"And look, she still didn't drop her weapon." Thrynn said incredulously. "What is _with_ Brynjolf and her?"

"Maybe he likes it. Maybe it gets him off." Vipir whispered.

"Is your head ever out of the gutter, boy?" Rune snapped. Vipir responded with a grin as his teeth cracked a hazelnut. They fell silent again as Isobel and Brynjolf readied themselves for another fight, sweat dripping from their chins and plastering their hair. It was Isobel who started, and the two commenced into battle yet again, Thrynn being mesmerized just watching their dancing feet.

His trance was broken by a sudden steel blade penetrating the target in front of them, causing each spectator to jump and cover their heads. Brynjolf had thrown a small knife at Isobel before pulling out another one from his belt and charging at her.

"Actually, Vipir may be right. Usually by now Brynjolf would've bedded the new girl."

"But Brynjolf always likes actual ladies, not hard-asses like Isobel." Thrynn said, thinking hard.

"He's had Vex and Tonilia before, and they're far from ladies." Rune shrugged. "Pretty sure Sapphire would've fallen for him too if she wasn't so anti-men."

Isobel had leapt up and was flying across a series of storage barrels, her feet too nimble and fast to be hit by Brynjolf's daggers as he trailed after her on the ground. Brynjolf made one swing at her that Thrynn thought without a doubt would find its mark, only for Isobel to launch her legs up and over her body, creating some sort of airborne cartwheel off the barrels. She landed like a cat before parrying Brynjolf's second strike.

"How does she do all those fancy moves?" Thrynn asked.

"Don't you know? She was raised in an..." But Rune trailed off, realizing that she hadn't told whatever secret she had to Thrynn.

"What? She was raised in a what?" He pressed.

"They just teach that stuff at her Guild in Cyrodiil." Vipir quickly covered for Rune. Apparently Vipir was in on her secret too. Thrynn felt a pang of jealousy at the two, and how Isobel was able to confide in them and not him. He had grown to respect her the way the rest of the boys did, and yet she avoided him whenever she could and simply tolerated him if they were in a group. He thought maybe it had to do with him being a former bandit... and that bothered him.

Slightly frowning he turned back to the duel, Brynjolf had tried to kick Isobel's untouchable feet from under her, and as she jumped bringing her knees up to her chest he shoved his shoulder into her, knocking her to the ground with a heavy _thump_. He dropped his stiletto on the ground near head.

"We'll pick up again tomorrow, lass." He shouted back as he exited. The room was silent save to the steady dripping from some unknown source and Isobel's heavy panting.

"Do you guys really need to watch this?" Isobel called out after she caught her breath. Rune and Vipir slowly crawled out from their seats and went over to her. Thrynn lagged behind, watching them lift her to her feet as he pulled the steel dagger out from the practice target. Thankfully it was blunted, if he had found it freshly sharpened he would've confronted Brynjolf himself.

"He's completely off his nuts, Issy. Don't let him get you down, c'mon you sweetroll." Vipir coaxed, trying to make Isobel smile.

"Please don't patronize me." She muttered, obviously exhausted.

"Stop it, Isobel." Rune scolded. "A lot of people are impressed with you down here. Me included."

"Oh, you mean like Brynjolf, Vex, Sapphire and Mercer? Yeah, I'm real popular down here." Isobel scoffed.

"The only opinion that matters is your own, Isobel." Thrynn said, Isobel's head snapped to him as if she didn't know he was there. "Remember who you are, and they can't break you." Isobel stared at him a second longer before speeding out of the training room, leaving the three men behind.

"It's gonna be a shame when she goes." Rune said. "But it's a bigger shame now that her skills aren't being put to better use while she's here."

"Aye." Thrynn agreed sadly.


	9. Dragon on Lake Honrich

"Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red who came riding to Whiterun from ol' Rorikstead!"

Frost Fall had begun, autumn had taken full hold of The Rift and Isobel, Rune and Vipir were trying to make the most of one of the last mildly warm days of the year. They were trekking along the shores of Lake Honrich, the surrounding birches had set themselves on fire in protest to the shorter, colder days, their flaming leaves fluttered in the wind and littered the earth. Despite the blazing landscape and bright sunshine, there was still a noticeable nip in the air.

They were on the rocky banks halfway between Riften and the Goldenglow bee farm, and Vipir and Isobel were singing so loudly the laborers on the Riften docks were smiling. Rune was less than amused.

"Shut up!"

"And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade as he told of bold battles and gold he had made!" The two sang even louder, frolicking around the unenthusiastic Imperial.

"I'm never going on walks with you two again, all you do is talk about filth and sing the most horrible of bard songs!"

"But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red, when he met the shield-maiden Matilda that said-"

"SHUT UP!"

"Well, would you rather us sing or talk about dirty things?" Vipir said in a sing-song voice and squeezed his arm around Rune. Isobel enjoyed messing around with Vipir, he was the only one she felt she could go truly wild with, and in the oppressing atmosphere of the Guild she needed that release.

"Whatever you do, do it quietly. I'm getting a headache." Rune pouted.

"I ever tell you about the time I sold a Falmer Blood Elixir?" Vipir leaned across from Rune and whispered to Isobel.

"No..." Isobel whispered back.

"The Bunkhouse owner, Haelga, is a devout follower of Dibella, and she expresses her religion by bedding as many men as she can. The woman is insatiable." Vipir grinned.

"I thought Dibella was more about beauty and art."

"Well, I guess some people consider fucking an art."

"Okay! That's it! I thought I could handle it but I couldn't!" Rune raised his hands in defeat and sped up along the lapping waves. "I'll walk ahead of you guys so you can be perverted in peace."

"Anyway," Vipir continued as Isobel giggled at Rune's agitation. "A lot of men in Riften have taken a go at her, a few of the women too. And of course, being the holy man that I am, I go over there once in a while to help with her worship."

"Yeah, I know she is. I had to squeeze a couple coins from her awhile ago and used her Dibella statue as leverage. She's always hanging around that fisherman, Bolli." Isobel said as she kicked the stones at her feet.

"Um, yeah." Vipir laughed. "He's been seeing Haelga a lot lately after he's found out about his wife cheating on him. He actually hired me to shadow her around to find out who she was with, but I was the one sleeping with her!"

"Vipir, you dog." Isobel scolded with a smile, punching him in the arm.

"Anyway, normally Haelga's quite exceptional in bed, but one night I gave her one of those Falmer Blood Elixirs that Brynjolf was selling at the time and told her it had the power to make her make love like a sabre cat. As you may know, that elixir was just liquefied fish guts that an anonymous fisher agreed to supply, but when I made her drink it believing it would increase her performance, even though it did nothing... that night she rocked me more wildly than she ever had. She claimed she felt the elixir work, she believed what I gave her was genuine."

"That's like how some people feel drunk even if what they're drinking isn't alcoholic when they think it is." Isobel said, impressed by Vipir's discovery.

"Exactly!"

"You didn't mind kissing someone who just chugged fish guts?"

"I've put my mouth in worse places."

"You're awful!" Isobel laughed.

"Yeah, as if you're innocent." Vipir shoved her with his elbow. "Who was the last guy you laid? Gray Fox?"

"It was just a one time thing with a guy I kinda knew. It wasn't anything spectacular, he wasn't even that good." Isobel shrugged.

That had been so many months ago now, on the night before her failed heist, and she had noticed how she was starting to feel more sexually frustrated lately. She had rarely gone longer than a few weeks without bedding someone, in all honesty she was just as notorious for her promiscuity throughout Cyrodiil as she was with her larceny. She just wanted to keep a clean nose in Skyrim as much as she could, she was still trying to earn the senior's respect and sleeping around wouldn't encourage that.

"And for the record, I'm not Gray Fox's lover."

"That's too bad. I guess the good thing about being a Thieves Guild thief is that you travel a lot, so you can spend one night with someone easily and move on." Vipir had started throwing rocks into the glistening waters of Honrich, creating large splashes that seemed to amuse him. "Ladies love bad boys too, we tend to be more mysterious."

"I know how to court lovers, Vipir... And not all of you get to travel around." Isobel muttered.

"Aw, poor Issy." Vipir cooed. "I bet you could still find someone in Riften that would take you. You're pretty enough. I'm just surprised Brynjolf hasn't slept with you yet."

"What?!" Isobel choked on her saliva, offended that Vipir would even say such a thing about her and her worst nightmare.

"Relax Issy, relax!" Vipir snickered. "I'm just saying you two have been spending a lot of time together, and he's always the type to have women flock to him. I think he slowed down a few years ago when he was restricted to selling fraud merchandise, but before then he almost always had a 'lass,' sometimes several at a time."

Isobel found it hard taking this new information in. It was hard imagining someone so square and harsh frivolously taking a turn in the sheets, just the notion that Brynjolf had any comprehension of _fun_ was hard for Isobel to grasp at all. She'd never deny calling him handsome though, he _was_ good-looking, maybe that was why women would succumb to him without knowing his true personality.

"He's got that charm he can turn on like a switch if he wants something, and I'm just wondering why he hasn't made advances towards you yet."

"You better stop talking or I'll rip your tongue out through your teeth." Isobel threatened her friend. "Brynjolf has been a complete prick to me ever since I was initiated, and I'll be damned if I ever sleep with someone who spits on my dignity so freely."

"Yeah, famous last words." Vipir grinned and ran off.

"You get back here!" Isobel chased after him and jumped on his back, putting his neck in a choke hold. Their boisterous laughter and roughhousing was cut short by a eerie echo that rolled off the water.

Isobel knew that sound, every muscle in her body seized up and froze. Forcing herself to turn around she saw the unmistakable figure of a dragon soaring on unfurled wings above the lake. Even as she looked at it she couldn't believe her eyes, nevertheless it grew larger and larger as if flew straight to them.

" _Run_." She hissed and Vipir took off in a sprint with her still on his back. However, Isobel heard the beating of the monster's wings closing in and its powerful inhale, instinctively she latched herself onto Vipir and threw her entire body weight backwards. Her and Vipir crashed to the ground with a painful grunt, narrowly missing the stream of flames that flooded the earth in front of them as the dragon made its fiery way to Riften.

"By the gods!" Vipir choked out as he watched the beast, completely dumbstruck.

"We gotta go!" Isobel yanked him up as she scrambled to her feet, the two thieves taking off into the nearby brush. They could hear the distant shouting of men from the city and the nearby farm, followed by another chilling roar as Vipir continued to weave throughout the brush, living up to his nickname.

"We have to find Rune!" Isobel screamed up at him. Even though her instincts were screaming at her to engage in flight and not fight, she knew that Rune was out there somewhere, and she'd never live with herself if he died while she fled. She had done stupider things than charging towards a dragon anyway.

"Damn right we-"

The trees about fifty feet in front of them suddenly collapsed with snapping trunks and rustling leaves, the dragon had landed and was facing right at them. Vipir skidded and pulled Isobel behind a fallen log as a wave of flame whooshed over their heads, igniting the dry bark of their hiding spot. Crawling away from the burning log, Isobel turned and saw that Vipir's face was sweaty and streaked with dirt, there were even a few bleeding cuts from sprinting through the twigs and branches. He looked terrified, _she_ was terrified, and as they panted heavily and laid low the air filled with smoke and the battlecries of Riften's bravest.

Peeking up ahead, Isobel managed to get a better look at the beast. It must've been the size of a farm house, with bronze scales and spikes that looked just as robust and strong as the metal itself. Its horned, reptilian head had turned from them to face the onslaught of what was mostly guardsmen, although a few common men had joined the defense as well. Her eyes searched frantically for Rune, and finally she caught sight of him at the dragon's flank, sword drawn and trying to get close enough to strike.

"Gods damn that stupid Imperial!" Isobel cursed, pointing for Vipir to see their comrade narrowly avoid the beast's lashing tail. "He's going to get himself killed!"

Taking a brief moment to cast one more glance at each other with panicked eyes, Vipir and Isobel knew what they had to do.

Charging from their smouldering hiding spot with Vipir releasing a mighty war cry, the two thieves made to join the fray. Isobel was trying to find where Rune had disappeared to when she saw the glow festering within the dragon's breast. As she screamed at those around her to get out of the way for what she knew was coming, that glow soon erupted up its throat before the billowing inferno streamed through its jagged teeth.

The sound of men being burned alive sent flashes of Helgen ripping through Isobel's mind... visions of people being hurled up and dropped from the black beast's claws... entire streets engulfed in flame and strewn with bodies of soldiers and common folk alike... screaming from all directions...

The sight of a bronze tail flying straight towards her was very real though, Isobel dodged it the last possible moment as it crushed the tree behind her. Shaking the fallen leaves from her head she looked around for Rune in the mob yet again, only to see a Riften guard disappear into the dragon's fanged maw with a wet, stomach-churning crunch. The beast continued to fight, its claws digging up earth now scorched black, swords and arrows doing little against it as the autumn trees around them now burned for real.

That was it, she couldn't fumble around looking for Rune and Vipir with the dragon fighting in full force. She had to be stupid.

With a cry Isobel drew her elven dagger and ran through the men. The dragon's tail just happened to strike the ground before her, so Isobel leapt a top the appendage and raced along it as if it were a lethal tight rope. The dragon felt her the moment she reached its back and immediately began to buck, she nearly toppled off but she grasped one of the dragon's protruding spinal scales and hung on for dear life. The amplitude of yelling rose as those saw her struggling to crawl along the writhing dragon's back, soon those fighting were focusing their attacks to the dragon's anterior in hopes of lessening his wild bucking.

Swords, axes, arrows... nothing was penetrating the monster's scales. Isobel knew where she had to aim, she knew eyes were a weak spot for almost every creature. It took every inch of her physical and mental strength to shuffle her way across its back, by the time she reached the base of the dragon's neck her face was streaked with strenuous tears.

The blood curdling scream of another man mortally wounded rang out and Isobel felt a surge of panic, wondering if either of her friends had just been slaughtered. Finally she saw Rune a short distance away, bleeding heavily from a gash on his head. She almost flew off her perch to rush to his aid and get him to safety, instead her new found desperation caused her to flee up the dragon's neck. Barely hanging on, Isobel roared and drove her dagger up to the hilt into the beast's slitted, green eye.

The monster screamed in agony and fury as it threw her off, and when Isobel finally hit the ground she heard and felt the unmistakable snap of a broken wrist. Crying out in pain she suddenly felt herself dowsed in shadow, and opening her eyes she looked to see the dragon's head had blocked out the sun above her, basking her in its shadow. A hellish roar deafened her to all thoughts of hope... before the life left its remaining eye. Another moment and it collapsed, its massive head crushing the earth where her feet used to be had she not shuffled away.

Everyone stared in disbelief, expecting the legendary beast to come back to life any second. Isobel saw a Riften guard trying to pull his sword out from the bleeding chest of the monster but it was wedged too deep, he must've pierced it straight through the heart. Almost a full minute passed before Isobel felt Rune rush to her side.

"Isobel, are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"My wrist is broken." She sniffed, wiping the blood from Rune's eyes. "Come here."

She ran her fingers through his hair to find his gash, he grimaced as she found it and placed her hand firmly on the deep wound, closing her eyes. She could feel Rune relax more as his pain faded, when she felt the cut stop bleeding she retreated her gory hand. She knew it would still be sore and need further healing but she didn't want to exhaust herself of magicka completely just yet. A sharp pain in her side suddenly made her gasp and double over, and when she grasped her armour she could feel it growing wet.

"Gods Isobel, you've been stabbed!" Rune fussed, trying to get a better look at her own wound. How it happened she couldn't remember, it was probably by one of the dragon's spine scales as it bucked her around... She hadn't even noticed, more important things had plagued her mind then as they did now.

"Where's Vipir?"

The two scanned the scene before them through the smokey haze. Guards limped to aid each other, townsfolk rushed in with buckets of water to pour on the still burning patches of brush. Isobel could see only one dead man lying at the base of a tree, his body nearly in two as his intestines flowed over himself and into the bloody mud.

" _Where's Vipir?_ " She repeated more urgently. She stood up and cursed as she bent over in pain, clutching her stab wound and holding her broken wrist close to her. Regardless, she stumbled quickly to the other side of the dragon, Rune behind her. They still couldn't see him. "VIPIR!" Isobel cried, starting to panic _. 'He couldn't have run away, there was no way he'd do that...would he?'_

Rune grabbed her shoulder and pointed to a pair of guards dragging a man out of the bush by his feet, his body completely limp. Isobel couldn't even scream as she ran to the guards and pushed them away before falling to her knees over her unconscious friend. Her eyes flew over him for any signs of life, but she couldn't see any.

"No no no no no." She chattered to herself as she started to undo Vipir's shirt with one hand, unbuckling his straps and belts. Rune was beside her, his blood-clotted hair hanging in his face as he supported Vipir's head. Isobel opened up his Guild armour to see almost his entire chest was discolored and dented like a battle ground.

Tears were starting to flow down her cheeks now. With clenched teeth and a yelp she slammed her injured hand against Vipir's bare torso, placing her other hand on him as well, and closed her watery eyes in a last minute attempt to revive any life he possibly had in him. Isobel felt the light in her palms even though she couldn't see it, and willed every fiber of herself into fueling that light. Eternity seemed to pass, she was starting to hear Rune sniffling, but she refused to give up. Suddenly the chest beneath her began to spasm, followed by the beautiful sound of lungs gulping back air.

* * *

Vipir was on one of the several tables in the crowded Temple of Mara, the entire room was bustling like a bee hive as healers, mages and alchemists flew throughout the sea of injured people. Isobel's injuries didn't take much time to treat, her stab wound was shallow and her wrist had a simple fix with a special potion that the town's top alchemist, Elgrim, had provided for her. She unfortunately still had to wear a makeshift cast so the bones wouldn't heal in an unnatural position, but Elgrim said it would only need to stay on for five nights. Rune was sitting on a chair beside Vipir's table and was doing fairly well, although he needed to wash badly. His eyes were the only thing not red on his face, his entire head had a layer of dried blood coating it and it was starting to smell.

It was Vipir who was going to have the most attention, he was still struggling to breath but he was finally able to smile again as Isobel continued to hold a healing hand over his bare chest. The head priest of Mara said that Vipir had broken a large majority of his ribs, he asked if he was whipped by the dragon's tail or crushed by its foot but Vipir was still having trouble talking. He needed powerful potions to to heal his bruised organs and broken bones, Isobel wasn't very knowledgeable when it came to healing internally but the priest said healing from the outside would still help his body regenerate faster, which Isobel was more than willing to do.

Vipir also had a bee sting on his finger which he was sure to point out.

"You're such a prick. Scaring us like that." Isobel scowled. She was still very shaken, and found comfort cursing at Vipir's grinning face. "I hope Daedra take you one day."

"I don't like that Ingun Black-Briar's here." Rune said, nodding to a young girl with raven black hair. "She's Elgrim's apprentice, but she's so enthralled with poisons and death and absent-minded I'm nervous she's going to kill somebody."

"Rune, take that wet cloth and wipe your face. How is that dried blood not bothering-" Isobel stopped her nagging as she saw a few familiar faces emerge out of the crowd. Brynjolf and Mercer quickly took a place on either side of her at Vipir's table, staring wide-eyed at the boy's condition.

"We heard from Hans, he ran into the Flagon a little while ago, apparently Tabitha is in here somewhere." Brynjolf said as he stood beside Isobel. She suddenly grew more nervous with an audience watching her magic, and tried to concentrate. "You're a healer, lass?"

"I'm no expert, but it's a skill I value." Isobel grumbled, Vipir's brown gaze shifting uneasily at the two senior members.

"Is he going to make it?" Mercer asked, eyeing Vipir's heavily bruised chest.

"Of course he is." Isobel scoffed. Rune kept silent, trying not to draw attention to himself as he cleaned his face.

"What all happened? How badly is he injured?" Brynjolf said, searching Isobel with earnest, concerned eyes. She never saw that look in him before and it intrigued her.

"Rune, Vipir and I were taking a walk out by the lake, and... a dragon attacked." She could tell that Brynjolf and Mercer couldn't believe it, Rune and Vipir probably still couldn't either. This was the first time any of them had seen a dragon despite hearing about their revival. Isobel was open to the juniors about being present at Helgen, but Rune and Vipir obviously didn't believe it to be as true as she swore it was. "I really don't know how else to say it. We were walking and a dragon attacked. Us and a bunch of others fought it, resulting in wounded and casualties." Isobel paused. "You say, Tabitha is in here? Is she okay?"

"I hear she's fine." Mercer blurted, continuing to look skeptically at Vipir. Isobel spoke further.

"Vipir has a lot of broken ribs and internal bruising, hence his struggled breathing and movement. The Temple and the Jarl are providing him with food, bed and medical attention for three nights, but when he comes home he'll need to take two fair-sized gulps of Blue Darthwig Oil every morning and evening for the next three weeks."

"And how expensive is that going to be?" Mercer groaned. Isobel couldn't continue healing after that statement, that had shaken out of all her focus.

"As much money as it takes." She growled as she turned to face her Guild Master. Brynjolf nudged her, warning her to back off, but that nudge only fueled her more.

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, we don't have a whole lot of that to spare." Mercer snarled back, matching her aggressive stare. Brynjolf took Isobel by the arm but she shook him off.

"And what do you spend all our money on? Hm? Your non-existent fences? Your absent allies? Or do you stock pile it for yourself? If you want to bring in money you need to invest in the people who do the work-" Isobel was met with a hard slap in her face, leaving her hair dishevelled as her cheek stung and grew pink. Several people turned to see what was going on with shocked faces, but when Isobel opened her eyes she saw Mercer was gone and Brynjolf was disappearing into the crowd, giving her a sad look over his shoulder as he left.

"Screw Ingun, you should worry about Mercer poisoning you." Rune said after an exhale in relief. "You can't keep doing that Issy, he _will_ hurt you."

"Thank you." Vipir suddenly wheezed. Isobel looked down at him, ruffling his hair.

"Shut up, you piece of shit."


	10. Isobel and Thrynn

Isobel sat with her feet dangling off the docks as she carved a wood pipe out of birch, the breeze that ruffled her hair was chilly but it beat the stink in the Ratways.

The dragon attack was now almost two weeks ago, but Riften still slumped under a heavy dread. The day after the dragon attacked the body simply disappeared. Vanished without a trace, no drag marks, no disturbance in the surrounding soil. The Jarl had hired her court mage to investigate the phenomenon but Wylandriah was far from competent, the rumor circulating around the city like a pox was that the dragon didn't die. Isobel didn't know what to think anymore.

You could still distinctively see where the battle had taken place. Crumpled, burnt trees surrounded by dirt as black as ink. The guards had cleaned up what they could, but in the end only nature could regrow the eyesore that was outside Riften's gates.

Isobel had spent the last while healing whoever needed it. Tabitha had severe burns up her left arm that were still struggling to heal, so Isobel had made it a part of her daily routine to treat the woman each morning for a few hours. Tabitha was still in a lot of pain, but she was already back at work. Isobel felt hopelessly shallow at the fact she was relieved after she found out Tabitha's beautiful face hadn't been marred despite her heavily scarred arm.

Isobel and Rune were both fully healed, and Vipir was back in the cistern but had only started to walk a few days earlier, he was still too weak to be given any jobs. With the added pressure on the other thieves to pick up his slack, Isobel felt even worse that she wasn't bringing in any coin to help, something she thought Mercer wouldn't be glad about. Isobel didn't know if he knew she wasn't working, and she was scared if she remained idle for much longer he'd send her back to Cyrodiil. However, Brynjolf was still keeping her from doing any fruitful jobs. She had started training a few guys with Illusion spells, mostly Etienne and Cynric, and Niruin was continuing to give her some archery tips from time to time, but Brynjolf was still acting harshly towards Isobel, and to her dismay, she felt like he was finally starting to break her down.

A song from home drifted into her head as she worked on her pipe and she began to hum softly, however her lips couldn't remain pursed and before long she started to sing quietly to herself.

"Back in the day,

'Fore my luck ran away,

Kicked down like a dog

In this world I hate.

Now I'm alone,

Just a-minin' ore,

Still dreaming of a future,

While I'm locked in chains.

Hey, ho, just singin' a jailbird's song-"

"You like to sing, don't you?" Isobel snapped her head around and saw Thrynn. With as friendly a smile he could muster he sat beside her, his feet almost touching the waves. "I hear you sing all the time."

Out of all the juniors in the Guild, he was the one she felt the most uneasy around. At least Sapphire just gave you ugly glares, but Thrynn was a man who liked conversation.

"Yeah, I guess so." Isobel shrugged, turning back to her handiwork. There were a few beats of silence before Thrynn continued.

"You know... you're pretty tough. Brynjolf wasn't that hard on me when he pulled me in. And I don't know if I could've climbed a dragon."

"Brynjolf inducted you?" Isobel asked, blowing a few shavings from her pipe.

"Mhm, most of the juniors were brought in by him, or Delvin if they had previous contacts with the Guild. But as you know, I ran with a bandit clan up in the Pale, and we didn't concern ourselves with Guilds and organizations." Another awkward silence hung over them. "Is that why you're nervous around me? Because I was a bandit?"

"Yes." Isobel confessed. No use hiding it if it was obvious.

"You do know that I've been with the Guild for over five years, those days are behind me. You have no reason to be afraid. I'm not asking you to be my buddy or anything, I just want you to feel as comfortable around me as you do with the rest of the guys."

"I'll try. It's not personal. Truly." Isobel muttered. "What happened with your clan?"

"Well, it turns out I didn't like them and they didn't like me, so we parted ways. I roamed around a bit doing mercenary work, I came across Brynjolf and he said the Guild was lacking some muscle so I joined."

"I highly doubt you just up and left a horde of bandits." Isobel scoffed skeptically. "What happened?"

"We raided a caravan one spring..." Thrynn said with a sigh. "I think it was a few wagons with some farmers moving to a new village. They didn't put up much of a fight. All that was left were the women and children. Then the leader of our clan... Garthek... he ordered us to kill the rest." Isobel's stomach churned and she felt sick.

"Did you... did you do that often?"

"No, we usually let them go." Thrynn spoke, his voice becoming a more engaged. "I refused to do it, and Garthek ordered the clan to kill me as well. Luckily, I had made some friends within the clan who immediately sided with me. We tore each other to pieces." He shook his head. "After it was over, those of us that remained simply went our separate ways."

"What happened to Garthek?"

"I left his head on a pike at the wreckage of the caravan." Thrynn growled with rich satisfaction. Isobel wasn't sure if this made her like him more or not, he definitely fought for righteous reasons, but she was still timid at his ferocity. "I can tell, you've lost someone to bandits."

"When did brute mercenaries become good at reading people?" Isobel grimaced.

"You don't have to tell me, but know that I'm not like that. Hell, Sapphire had her family killed and was raped for a fortnight by bandits, and she treats me with the equal amount of coldness as everyone else."

"Sapphire had that happen to her?" Isobel felt a lump in her throat. She never thought about what must've turned Sapphire's heart black.

"Aye. It's awful."

"The family I had before I joined my Guild were killed by Nord bandits." Isobel blurted, forcing herself to look at Thrynn and keep her eyes there. He definitely didn't look kind, but he had opened up to her about something he wasn't proud of to try to ease her mind. It was her turn to return the favor.

"Your entire family?" Thrynn asked incredulously.

"Yes..." Isobel had the told the story of her becoming an orphan countless times. In her Guild in Cyrodiil everyone knew everything about her, there were no secrets, and in Skyrim she had opened up to most of the juniors. She didn't have that much of an issue exposing her childhood, she didn't feel like telling her backstory to someone would lessen her guard or make her weaker. When she was young she had a hard time talking or even thinking about her orphaning, but her Guild had helped her with her trauma. She was able to to talk about her family's death with minimal pain for years now, but it felt very strange having a heart-to-heart conversation with someone who probably had destroyed families in the same way as hers was.

"Go on." Thrynn said, listening intently.

"Well, my family traveled around a lot so we didn't have a hometown, or even a house. We lived in caravans." Isobel started.

"Were you merchants?"Thrynn pondered.

"No..." This was where she was nervous. "We were...we were jesters." Isobel buried her head into arms. "We danced, played music, did acrobatics, sometimes performing plays my grandfather would write. I even met professional standards of juggling by my tenth summer. Please, I know Nords hate that kind of stuff, it's why we rarely came here. That and..." She trailed off a bit, staring at the sun's reflection in the lake with unfocused eyes. "I suppose if there's ever been a time where I've been wary around you that's why..."

"What happened?"

"We were traveling from a mining camp, I forget which one it was, I just remember the fields. It was very open, maybe it was the Whiterun plains. I was twelve. We were stopping for a break for the horses and to practice a bit when some Nords came. They were big, very bulky, and they carried weapons. Even though I was naive I knew they were trouble. They stopped, mocked the way we dressed and broke our instruments. They demanded we dance for them. My grandfather had enough and told them to leave, and they... they just killed him." Isobel felt a big hand on her shoulder and looked to see Thrynn's steady gaze. Isobel wasn't crying or welling up but she felt her voice quake a bit. "They continued to butcher the rest of us, my parents, my baby brother, my aunt and uncle and cousins. We were completely defenseless, even with our magic and small weapons. My mother told me to run, run without looking back... and I did."

"I traveled to Cyrodiil since that was where my family got the most business, primarily the Imperial City. I performed in the streets, but no one really cared to watch a ratty urchin do flips and juggle tomatoes. I had to steal to survive, and that's when the Thieves Guild found me. They were impressed by my agility and acting abilities despite my age, and offered to take me in. They said that I wouldn't have to live on the streets anymore and that I'd be given safety and riches. I guess coin didn't mean much to me as long as I had some sort of family again, and I still don't care much for wealth as I do about the Guild as a whole. I was was thirteen when I joined, that's why my skill for someone so young surprises people. I've already been in a Guild for nearly a decade and my experience with acrobatics has helped me phenomenally. Juggling is spectacular for dexterity, you know."

"Is that why you sing so much? Because you were a jester?"

"I guess so, I grew up surrounded by music. You should see me play the flute, I bet I could outplay any bard you can find me." Isobel smiled, starting to lighten up after getting her story off her chest. "I can't say that the death of my family was as traumatic as Sapphire's, especially since I found a new family so fast. I'm not saying I've replaced my birth family either, but the Thieves Guild taught me about self-recreation, to leave behind the orphaned acrobat and become something better. I feel every time I do a good job I'm living in both my birth family and Guild family's name, that I'm using the skills they taught me to be something great. I can't stand letting any of them down."

"I'm so sorry that happened to you." Thrynn said after a time.

"Don't be. It doesn't hurt me anymore, well, at least not as much as it used to." Isobel said. "I just can't help but wonder that if _this_ Guild was more like a family if Sapphire would've turned out different..." She paused, thinking hard before continuing. "Thank you listening, I feel better. If you ever need anybody, I'm your girl."

"Okay. I feel better too." Thrynn smiled.

"Do you want to go get an ale"

"Yeah."

The tender moment was interrupted as a scrap sounded behind them, both the thieves started and turned. Across the harbor Dirge and Maul were entangled in each other's fists.

* * *

Brynjolf watched as the red waterfall of wine cascaded into his glass. He was in Riftweald Manor, Mercer's own private home provided to him by Maven Black-Briar. He used the place as his own living and work space away from the cistern, but sometimes it was used for wealthy clients who traveled to Riften so that they may have a professional and private place to do business instead of the filthy Ratways. It had been so long since such a person came to the Guild that a small layer of dust clung to every surface, and cobwebs stretched across the ceiling planks.

"So, let's talk of business. First things first, have we reached this week's quota?" Mercer inquired as he poured his own glass.

"Nay. We're five-hundred and eighty-five septims under. We've sent out all we could, but-"

"Vipir is still injured and we had to pay for his oils, I know I know." Even though they put aside a cut for Vipir, Mercer only allowed him enough potions for a week and a half instead of three. Apparently Isobel was livid when she found out, but fortunately was calmed before she could get a hold of Mercer or Brynjolf's necks. "But did you send Isobel?" Mercer asked, digging his fork into the cooked salmon before him. "Go ahead, eat." He gestured to Brynjolf to tuck into his own meal as well.

"I haven't." Brynjolf said after a bite of the succulent fish. "I've been training her, trying to get it into her head how we do things. The lass is still quite fiery, but I'm starting to tame her." He lied. He was far from breaking Isobel and she was exhausting him.

"She has told you the little deal I have going on with her, correct?" Mercer questioned, pointing his fork at Brynjolf.

"She said she gets a place to stay until Gray Fox summons her home, and in return she won't receive a cut from any of her jobs."

"Precisely." Mercer said with a full mouth. "But how do you expect her to earn her keep if she isn't handling any jobs?"

"I'm working on it Mercer, but-"

" _No buts, Brynjolf_. I can't blame her for not bringing money in if her superiors won't give her work, and I know she has enough skill that she doesn't need training like some of the rookies you usually drag in. I've been watching, she's excellent at lock picking, skilled in combat and you didn't even notice when she swiped your elven dagger during one of your pathetic little sessions."

 _'Damn, that's where that went.'_ Brynjolf felt a wave of humiliation.

"Start giving her work." Mercer stressed, looking at Brynjolf intensely. "She hasn't told you what happens if she fails to keep her end of the bargain, has she?" Brynjolf shook his head. "I ship her to the Imperial City in a crate filled with as many skeevers I can stuff in with her."

"I see, she did not enlighten me on that." Brynjolf felt sick. The whole reason he wasn't giving her jobs was because he wanted to prevent her ego from inflating and furthering her feud with Mercer. Brynjolf knew she could handle any job he threw at her and he didn't want her to become more arrogant. Now he had no choice but to send her out.

"Well, now you are." Mercer said with a smile. "I hear she's also the lover of Gray Fox? You've heard that rumor?"

"Aye, but I don't believe it. It was probably fabricated by Vipir." Brynjolf spoke after a sip of wine.

"Ah yes... maybe it _is_ just all gossip..." Mercer muttered as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief thoughtfully. "So? We clear? You're going to start giving her work? It'd be nice to rid the cistern of her for a few days, maybe I'll be able to do my job without the little imp challenging me."

"Aye, Mercer."

"Good." They finished their meal speaking of the current condition of the Guild, what debts they still had to pay and how they could possibly gain any foothold in another city. Most of it was just small talk at this point, Brynjolf and Mercer had discussed the issue thousandfold but Mercer took no obvious initiative in restoring the Guild. All Brynjolf could do was trust Mercer and use the position he was given to benefit the Guild as much as he could.

"Oh, and Brynjolf." Mercer said as he stood up to clear the dishes. "Before you go back to the cistern, remind Delvin he still hasn't fixed the hole Isobel crashed through."

Brynjolf nodded, thanked Mercer for the meal, and stepped out the front door into the dark Riften street. He put his hands in his pockets as he strolled south, he wanted to make sure Grelod the Kind hadn't locked any orphans in Honorhall's courtyard overnight as she'd done in the past. He reached the tall courtyard wall, with its iron bars lining the top, and pulled himself up to peek over the edge, peering into the shadows to make sure no unfortunate boy or girl was shaking in the bush. There weren't any to his relief, and Brynjolf let go and continued to lean with his back against the wall. The sky was clouded, blocking any heavenly light from reaching Nirn and enveloping it in darkness. Brynjolf looked up at the blackness above him, deep in thought with what he had to do with Isobel.

He could keep her in Riften and risk Mercer sending her away, or give her jobs and watch her become a threat to Mercer. Either way risked her safety. He never had to deal with a Guild member in such a way, and the fact that she was so young sparked the same sort of emotions he felt when trying to help the children at Honorhall. Except Mercer made Grelod look genuinely kind. And none of the orphans were as headstrong and outspoken as Isobel was. Yes, Brynjolf knew he couldn't afford to go soft on her now, that she still needed him to bear down on her.

He sighed heavily, banging his head against the wall behind him slightly. The last thing he ever wanted to do was try to snuff out the flame of someone he thought was brilliant. But Delvin's words still echoed in his head.

_'...she needs to be reined in before something bad happens to her...remember, it's for her own good...'_


	11. The Amethyst

Isobel had finally managed to convince Delvin to join a game of cards with herself, Etienne and Thrynn. Almost every time Vex went out on a job Isobel hung out in the Ragged Flagon, it beat the cistern and she enjoyed Delvin and Vekel's company. Even Dirge was starting to warm up a bit, but Tonilia still sat by herself. Isobel knew she was going to butt heads with Brynjolf in the training room as soon as he got back from supper at Riftweald Manor and only indulged in a few sips of Thrynn's mead.

"Okay boy, put 'em in." Delvin said shuffling cards as Etienne placed three spoons in the center of the table. Delvin dealt them each four cards, placed the remaining deck on the table, and took the top card off. He looked at it briefly before passing it to his left to Isobel. The rules were simple, get four of a kind from any suit and grab a spoon in the middle, triggering the rest of the players to fight over the remaining utensils. Whoever was left without a spoon had to pay the penalty of one snowberry, and whoever was left with the most berries whenever they decided to stop playing was the winner.

"Ya hear that lil boy what escaped the orphanage last month is up in Windhelm?" Delvin chatted as the cards moved around the table, the players switching and choosing what they felt would bring them the most luck before passing the rejected card to the next person.

"No, I haven't. That's quite a trek for a little boy to make by himself." Etienne shook his head. "Is he okay?"

"Hard to tell, folks say he's locked up in his old house tryin' to summon the Dark Brotherhood." Delvin mumbled. "Let's hope they go easy on the kid. I know some of those killers, they may charge him more than he has."

" _You_ know people in the Dark Brotherhood?! Like the assassin organization?" Isobel said incredulously.

"He knows every shady figure from here to Valenwood." Dirge grunted as he stood watching the game, his expression somewhat softer that it normally was.

"Aye, that I do. Then again, I hear they're havin' some trouble connectin' with their clients, so they may not even know he's callin' 'em." Delvin shrugged.

"You think they're hit with the same curse we are, Delvin?" Thrynn smirked, but Etienne had grabbed a spoon lightning fast and the table was in a frenzy. Delvin managed to snag one and the remaining spoon was caught between Isobel and Thrynn. The entire room erupted with cheering and shouting as the two battled for the spoon. Thrynn chuckled as he manipulated Isobel's arm, she was no match against his strength but continued to latch onto the utensil as if her life depended on it. He suddenly let go, causing Isobel to topple off her chair as the men clapped and banged the table.

"You're not supposed to just give it to me!" Isobel laughed from the filthy floor before pulling herself back up. 

"I'm sorry, Issy. I couldn't resist." Thrynn grinned, patting her on the shoulder as she sat back down. It took another few moments for the tavern to quieten down before Delvin began dealing the cards again.

"I'd almost forgotten how much laughter echoes in here." Vekel said thoughtfully, cleaning a mug with his rag. "You guys are welcome to do this whenever, Vex doesn't have to loiter in this place all the time, she rarely buys drinks anyway." He smiled directly at Isobel, who returned the expression.

The table was starting to pass around cards again when they heard footsteps approaching the tavern, and soon Brynjolf emerged around the corner. The card players steadily grew quieter as he walked up to their table.

"You ready for more training, lass?" Brynjolf asked Isobel, crossing in arms and eyeing the piles of spoons and snowberries.

"No. Can I play a few more rounds?" She said defiantly. She felt someone nudge her foot underneath the table.

"Fine." Brynjolf agreed to Isobel's surprise. "Each minute you take before you enter the training room will result in twice as many fights I have to win." He turned to leave the tavern. "And I'm counting." 

"What does he mean? About having to win fights?" Etienne asked as soon as the Second in Command wasn't within earshot.

"When we do combat training we simply go until he wins five fights." Isobel shrugged. He knew how to push her, how she would never simply surrender if she was tired or hurt, and it damaged her pride when he turned his back on her after she was defeated.

"That's smart." Delvin said under his breath, making Isobel even sadder. She brought her attention back to the cards she was barely trying to rearrange. A seven and five of spades, a king of hearts, and an eight of diamonds. She definitely wasn't going to win.

"You shouldn't focus on him." Thrynn said as he wrapped his arm around Isobel and gave her a tight squeeze. "You've got almost the whole Guild at your back, you've brought us together in a way no one else has. Truly Issy, you've got us."

"I just want to impress him again!" Isobel blurted loudly before immediately biting her tongue, she hadn't intended on saying that. The men simply looked at her.

"Trust me lil lady, you do." Delvin said with a small smile.

"No I don't!" Isobel was starting to get emotional. "All I want is for him to look at me the same way he did when I first came here." The room felt awkward at the sudden drop in mood, but Isobel couldn't stop herself. "He once smiled at me, how come he stopped doing that?! What did I do Delvin?!" She searched Delvin with frustrated eyes, begging for an answer. Everyone was silent, no one knowing what to say, even Delvin. It wasn't until Tonilia walked out from her porch into the main bar area did someone speak.

"Because he realized you're a burden." She said with a blank expression. Isobel wasn't the only one to snap out of her chair with teeth clenched and eyes on fire, Thrynn and Dirge had mimicked her and Tonilia suddenly looked frightened at the three.

"Hey hey! Calm down!" Vekel shouted as he quickly exited from behind the bar and tried to pull Tonilia away. "All four of you! This may be Thieves Guild territory but it's still my tavern and I _won't_ tolerant fights in here!"

" _Isobel, sit_." Delvin commanded fiercely, but Isobel didn't listen. Instead she slammed her cards on the table, crushed her remaining snowberries with her fist and stormed out of the room, shoving her shoulder into Tonilia as she passed by.

"You can expect me fighting Brynjolf to the dawn!"

However, as soon as she was through the hidden mead cabinet door and out of sight her shoulders sagged and her head drooped. She had gotten too emotional, and told the men things she didn't want anybody to know. That she wanted to win Brynjolf over. That the only thing pushing her ferocity towards him was her crumbling pride. That she didn't want to fight him anymore. That she was weak.

That she wanted him to play cards with them too.

She rubbed her face in her hands in an attempt to compose herself, and realized they were sticky with snowberry juice, the red stains reminding her of blood. There was still blood on her hands. Her bottom lip quivered as she hastily rubbed them on her armor.

Isobel entered the training room with her chin up and fists clenched, giving off as much body language as she could that she was strong, but her stance was shaken when she saw a very angry Brynjolf leaning over a crate with dead skeevers littered about him.

"What did you do?!" Isobel exclaimed, walking over to the mess. "I was using those for-" But she stopped in her tracks when Brynjolf turned to her. His face was as red as his hair.

"These are yours?" He said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, I caught them in the Ratways. I was using them to teach Etienne and Cynric some spells, they've only been there for a day..."

Brynjolf continued to look upset but his breathing was becoming more calm, he ran one of his hands through his hair and sighed heavily. Isobel was utterly shocked that someone who lived in sewers would be offended by crated skeevers... until she finally realized that he must've thought they were Mercer's.

"You didn't think that...that they were for me, did you?" She asked, but Brynjolf didn't answer. He simply picked up the large rodents by the scruff of their limp necks and threw them back inside the crate, leaving little pools of blood underneath his feet.

"I don't want to see those in here again, got that lass?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Today we're going to do some sneak exercises." He said as he banged the crate lid into its grooves. "We're going to..." But when Brynjolf turned around Isobel wasn't there. He was confused only for a second before he was met with a kick in his back and found his upper body flattened on the top in the crate with two small kneecaps pressing into his biceps, pinning him down.

"I already know how to sneak." Isobel whispered as she sat on his back. Brynjolf bucked her light frame off with ease and sent her crashing on the ground. "If I was better at Conjuration I would reanimate those dead skeevers and make them chew your face off." She grumbled.

"Cute." Brynjolf said, completely unamused. "By the way, have you seen my elven dagger anywhere, lass?"

"Last time I saw it it was buried in a dragon's eye socket." Isobel said smugly, it was about time he noticed it was gone. She would've paid money to see Brynjolf's face, but he was looking for something in a nearby cupboard.

"Here we go." Brynjolf pulled out a large metal cup. Isobel still sat on the floor with her arms around her legs, starting to grow extremely curious as Brynjolf walked over to the center of the room and poured what must've been thousands of tiny marbles onto the floor. They rolled in all directions, spreading all the way out to the walls. Soon the entire ground was covered with the small orbs, no two being further than a few inches from each other. "Get up, lass." He scolded, and Isobel stood up reluctantly as he continued. "The Guild Master's been watching in on our little sessions... He's impressed, thinks you're ready..." Brynjolf took out a fairly large sized amethyst and held it out between his thumb and index finger, making sure Isobel saw it he slowly placed it in his front pocket.

"You get a hold of this thing and I'll give you a job out in Falkreath."

"Is this a joke?" Isobel couldn't believe it, she simply stared at Brynjolf with big, blue eyes.

"No." He stated. "I'll be blindfolded, and I'll walk around the room slowly. But if I hear any of these marbles move against each other, I'm taking the fold off and we'll fight. No daggers... and no magic." He added and gave her a stern look.

"How many times do I have to beat you?"

"Once." Brynjolf said to a confused Isobel. "But it won't be easy, I assure you." And with that he tied a strip of black cloth around his eyes, making a tight knot at the back. Isobel had never done this before, and it looked like fun had she been with a friend instead of Brynjolf. She was just nervous about the possibility of dueling with someone on such a hazardous floor.

Brynjolf began to put one foot in front of the other, shuffling through the glass beads as they clinked against themselves. His arms ever so slightly outstretched, making sure he didn't walk into a wall, as he sped up and slowed down in all directions. Isobel waited, crouching near the ground, she wanted to creep as close to him as possible, for he made a path through the marbles as he strolled through. She didn't move, waiting only until he was within a small ways from her before taking a small leap and landing behind him with the silence a shadow would envy.

Trying to focus on his pocket while maneuvering around the marbles was proving to be extremely difficult, even more so was Brynjolf's posterior in her face.

 _'He has a nice ass._ ' Isobel's eyes widened at herself as she scowled. _'By the gods, I can't believe I just thought that.'_

But before she knew it her foot had slipped on a marble, and she had to duck onto all fours as Brynjolf turned sharply and swung his arm over her. She scrambled through his open legs before he tore his blindfold off and looked at the ground, puzzled as to where she went. Isobel took the opportunity to shove her hand into his pocket, but he grabbed her wrist before she could grip the amethyst. Luckily she was still in a position where she was able to slam all her body weight behind his left knee, causing him to release her wrist and stumble but not fall.

Brynjolf turned around and made to grab Isobel, but she did a tuck and roll out of the way, grimacing as her shoulder and back rolled along the hard marbles, and stood up, almost slipping as the marbles rolled from under her. She dodged another one of Brynjolf's punches before kicking him as hard as she could in the abdomen, causing him to retch. She made another brash attempt at his pocket, but found herself suddenly wrapped in a bear hug with her back against Brynjolf's heaving chest.

"Let go." Isobel grunted, and brought up her feet to an attempt to weigh him down. Unfortunately she was too light and Brynjolf too strong, and even when she struggled and kicked in the air he held on.

"Mercer and I talked about you tonight, lass." Brynjolf said, his voice right beside her ear. Isobel's resistance diminished, leaving her squirming only half-heartedly as she felt his heavy breath on her neck. "He says I'm to give you work. But you need to do something for me first."

"What, do I have to lick the bottom of your boot for each job you give me?" Isobel hissed, wiggling her hand down her side, almost reaching his pocket.

"Close. You have to surrender to me. Right now." He whispered softly as Isobel delicately entered his pocket and felt the cool, smoothness of the gem. As she pulled back her hand in triumph he suddenly released her from his grip, making her body feel a blast of cold as it left Brynjolf's warmth. He grabbed her hand and almost plucked the purple gem right out of it had Isobel not swung around and clamped both hands on the prize. Her grip made her earlier battle for Thrynn's spoon look like child's play. She pulled with all her might, sinking to the floor and causing Brynjolf kneel down with her as he tried to pry her fingers off the amethyst.

"Brynjolf, you know I had it!" Isobel shrieked, her rage only tightening her clasp. She was so focused on the gem she didn't even see Brynjolf raise his arm to back hand her across her face.

"Let go, Isobel!"

"No!" Another backhand, more powerful than the first, making her face sting and eyes water.

"Let go Isobel, please!"

"Do you honestly think manners will work?!" Isobel glared furiously at him, but she was not met with mirrored ire. Instead Brynjolf's face looked frustrated and tired, like he hadn't slept in days, and there was the faintest tinge of desperation in his green eyes.

"Let go, Isobel." He said again, his voice was...cracking? Isobel couldn't believe it. "I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to fight. I'm exhausted, lass." Isobel was speechless, her brow coming closer together as she frowned.

"Who are you right now!?" She yelled. "What is this!?"

"Just let go, lass." Brynjolf continued softly, making Isobel even more upset. "If you surrender I'll leave you alone. I don't want to fight anymore Isobel, please. I had to try breaking you for your own good."

"You _had_ to!?" Isobel spat, bracing her feet against his torso and pushing away, trying to bring the amethyst with her. But Brynjolf just pulled her closer, bringing their faces close as he looked down into her from above.

"Aye." His hair dangled down the sides of his face like a curtain, the tips tickling Isobel's forehead as she snarled up at him, daring him to continue as they held onto the gem between them. "Your arrogance and stubbornness were, and still are, putting you in danger. I took it upon myself to try and teach you to be humble before you got in serious trouble with Mercer. You need to step down, Isobel. For your own safety." Isobel kept staring intensely at him, little beads of sweat were forming over his brow and she was able to see the long pink scar that marred his left cheek. Strangely enough, it seemed to enhance his handsomeness instead of subtracting it.

"Surrender Isobel, give me the amethyst and lay your pride to sleep." Brynjolf's face was a mixture of pleading and sternness. "Put your pride down, until you return to Cyrodiil. You continue to challenge Mercer and you'll be going home dead. I don't want to fight any more, but neither do I want to see you hurt."

"This is coming from the man who's done nothing but beat me down for weeks!" Isobel hissed. "I'm not letting go Brynjolf, you know I had it. And I'm offended that you think I'd just _hand_ you the prize, you know I'm not like that!"

"This is my point, lass." He said, gripping her hands until she gasped. "You need to surrender, _give_ me victory, and when you do I will give you jobs and stop the nightly training sessions."

Isobel clenched her teeth as her eyes began to water again. The deal was so tantalizing, give him the amethyst and he'll leave her alone and give her work. But each time Isobel prepared herself to let go of the gem she couldn't do it, it didn't feel right. It felt like she was signing over her soul, like she was going to betray her identity, she would rather fight Brynjolf for days than give up.

"No, I can't!" She shouted, surprised that she was actually crying. Tears were running in rivers down her cheeks and her nose was running. "I won't!" She felt Brynjolf suddenly on top of her, pinning her to the ground as marbles flew away from them in tiny chatters.

" _Let go._ " Brynjolf snapped, growing more frantic, for his eyes were starting to glaze over as if Isobel was the one torturing him. "Give up Isobel, please. It's for your own good." But Isobel was starting to cry harder, shaking her head.

With that Brynjolf knelt up slowly and put his right foot on Isobel's throat. With the saddest look she had ever seen on a man's face, he slowly stood, keeping pressure on Isobel's neck. Choking and gasping she tried to hold onto the amethyst, but even with her arms completely outstretched Brynjolf had more room to pull. Unable to breathe with his boot closing off her airway, Isobel felt one more harsh tug and the purple gem slip through her fingers. Instantly Brynjolf fled the room without looking back, leaving Isobel coughing and openly sobbing on the floor.

She felt like he just ripped out a piece of her, that there was a gaping hole in her heaving chest. She rolled on her side and curled into herself, wiping her nose with her sleeve. Her hands were stiff and rigid for clamping down so hard for so long. Suddenly she felt two thick arms pick her up and cradle her and opened her red, swollen eyes to see Thrynn.

"What did he do?" He growled through clenched teeth as Vipir and Etienne appeared from behind him and took a place by his side. Thrynn stroked his thumb against Isobel's cheek and she winced when he felt where Brynjolf back handed her. "Did he hit you?!"

"It looks like there's a bruise already forming there!" Etienne gently held her chin and turned her head so he could see. Isobel just shook her head, causing more tears to race down her face, Thrynn held her tighter to his chest as she sobbed.

"I'm so weak... I'm so weak."


	12. Shaking the Guild

It took a while for everyone to fall asleep that night. After she stopped crying and closed her eyes, Isobel listened as the boys continued to whisper shrilly among themselves.

"I knew something was up as soon as I heard yelling."

"I can't believe he hit her! He's never done _anything_ like that before."

"Where is he now? Did he honestly flee the cistern?"

It seemed like forever they talked, it was Delvin who had to split them up and send them to bed like children.

Slowly Isobel felt herself calm down, the pieces of her mind coming together as she realigned herself and planned her next course of action. She was _done_ sitting around taking abuse.

She sat up and surveyed the room with groggy eyes, making sure nobody else was awake. Slowly she eased out of the covers and stood up, grabbing her backpack from beside her bed and swinging it over her shoulder. She made her way towards a slumbering Thrynn, crouching beside his bed and quickly clasping both her hands over his snoring mouth. His eyes shot open instantly followed by a brief struggle before he realized the hooded figure beside him was Isobel.

"Shhh. It's just me." She whispered, retreating her hands. "We need to be quiet and I need you to listen."

"Yeah, sure, anything Issy. What is it? Are you okay?" Thrynn muttered sleepily under his breath, leaning up on his elbows.

"I'm going out of town for a bit, I need to bring in some loot otherwise Mercer will kick me out. Do you understand?"

"This has something to do with Brynjolf." Thrynn didn't ask. He stated.

"No." Isobel hissed, but Thrynn's skeptical gaze saw through her. "Okay yes, I want to spite the shite out of him. But I seriously do need to bring gold in for Mercer too, maybe get Vipir the rest of his potions. I don't know how long I'll be gone but I'll be back, I _promise_ you."

"What do I say to everyone?"

"Tell them the truth. Even Brynjolf and Mercer. I can't sit here any longer, I need to prove myself." Isobel said. Thrynn grabbed her hands firmly.

"Be safe." He whispered, looking at her deeply. "Come back to us."

"I will." Isobel squeezed his rough, calloused hands before sneaking away. She made her way to the kitchen silently, packing her bag with the essentials and some survival gear. With that she ascended up the ladder leading to the surface.

Isobel crept out of the mausoleum and between the graves, making her way towards a statue of Talos that was conveniently close to a city wall. She didn't want to exit through Riften's gates, she didn't want _anyone_ to see which direction she was going, she simply didn't know if Brynjolf or Mercer were the type to go after renegade Guild members.

Down the back alley she snuck, under the cloudy sky that blocked out any stars, the only break in the inky blackness being the lilac hue that was approaching from the east. Isobel hustled, trying to make sure her pack didn't make too much noise as she reached the large statue. Talos was a Nord god, that's all she knew. That and the fact that Talos worship is banned. Lucky for her, Riften was under Stormcloak influence, giving her an easily climbable structure to ascend to the top of and over the Riften wall.

She had already grabbed the deity's hands and placed her foot on the head of the serpent it was conquering when she noticed a man's sleeping frame in behind the statue. She froze. It was Brynjolf.

Against all her good judgement Isobel lowered herself down and crept on all fours to look over his curled up body, watching the rise and fall of his chest as her eyes trailed up to his face. In the light of the candles on Talos' shrine, Isobel could see crow's feet starting to form around Brynjolf's frowning eyes, which made her to wonder how old he actually was. She knew he must've at least been in his forties. Isobel tilted her head as she gazed further, he looked anguished as some locks of red hair laid across his face like burgundy ribbons, rippling down his strong, Nordic jaw and nose. He smelled like mead, and sure enough there were a couple empty bottles nearby.

Isobel couldn't help herself, and was internally screaming at herself to leave, but she slowly and tenderly put her hand in his pocket, pulling out the amethyst. She looked at the purple gem in the palm of her hand before gripping it tightly, cursing how much power she gave Brynjolf over her. Even though she swore her pilgrimage out of Riften was to restore herself, she knew she was only looking forward to seeing Brynjolf's dumb face when she came back with a prize even he wouldn't attempt to steal.

And as Isobel gazed at the stone God towering above them, she knew exactly where she was going to get such a prize.

Quickly snagging a bottle that was still half-full with mead and climbing up the statue, she perched on Talos' winged helmet, bracing herself for the leap to the wall's edge. She did so with the ease of a born acrobat, and pulled herself up onto the ledge. She gave Brynjolf once last look before she lowered herself on the opposite side of the wall and let go.

* * *

"Well...I don't know what to think." Mercer grumbled as he tapped his fingers on the table pensively. "I can't blame her, especially after what happened last night." He shot Brynjolf a dirty look. "But what shall I do with her when... or even _if_... she comes back?"

It was noon the day after Isobel's disappearance. Gossip and chatter was flying every which way like confetti and all tasks and agendas were put on hold until things were sorted out. Of course, as soon as Brynjolf entered the cistern from the secret passage, his head throbbing and body stiff from his drunken slumber outside, all of Isobel's cohorts were hounding him. It was Thrynn who caught a dizzy Brynjolf as Cynric pushed him, and it was Thrynn who revealed to him that Isobel was gone.

"She's going out for a short time." He said simply. Mercer had gathered him along with the senior members into an isolated table in the Flagon for a quiet place to talk. "She wants to bring some gold in. She felt she wasn't being given opportunities to pay back the Guild for taking her in and took off."

Brynjolf sat at the table rubbing his temples, it felt like knives were wedged behind his eyes. He was still finding it hard to imagine that Isobel was at that moment in the wilderness somewhere, in a quest to restore the honor that was taken by him the night before. He reached into his pocket subconsciously and found it empty. Frantically he began patting his other compartments in search of his amethyst.

"Stop it, Brynjolf." Mercer snapped. "This whole thing wouldn't have happened if you just gave her bloody work to do in the first place. Dare I even ask _why_ you refused to let an already experienced thief go?" Brynjolf vainly tried to wet his dry mouth before speaking.

"I wanted to break her... humble her so that she wouldn't be so defiant. I thought she would only be trouble if I sent her out with her arrogance."

"While I do admire your intentions, for she is a stubborn _imp_ , I cannot help but think your attempts to smother her flames only ended up only stoking them." Mercer said, his voice growing deeper and slower.

"She should still be punished." Vex's stony face said. Brynjolf felt nauseous and tensed up, and he saw Thrynn and Delvin do the same. Vex was always so easy to intimidate, like Isobel she guarded her pride, only instead of doing work to prove herself she resorted to simply eliminating all competition. "I don't care her reasons, a member of the Guild takes off like that they need to face consequences. If we let ourselves come and go freely on little adventures the Guild would be even less of what it is now."

"She's trying to benefit the Guild." Thrynn spoke through clenched teeth.

"You both have points, but I lean more towards Vex." Mercer said predictably. Brynjolf's new stress levels were only heightening his headache as his head hung limply. Despite all his efforts to prevent Isobel from harm it had found her anyway and, like his market stand, he had failed. "But her punishment will depend entirely on what she brings back." Mercer looked at Brynjolf. "Since you've already had experience tormenting her, I'll leave to you to carry out whatever consequences I lay upon her."

"She's trying to benefit the Guild, she ran off so she could bring in coin!" Thrynn half-shouted. Mercer's eyebrows raised before coming back down in a ferocious scowl.

"Isobel has also seemed to gather quite the little posse, hasn't she?" He snarled as he spoke to Thrynn. "Is her unbearable attitude that attracts everyone to her, or is it a little more... _base_ , than that?" Brynjolf saw Thrynn's fist clench and prayed the beast of a man could keep his composure. Mercer did make a good question though, Isobel _had_ assembled her own little army. Cynric had never pushed Brynjolf before, and they had known each other since they were in their early twenties. Isobel was even starting to tame Dirge. In a way, it was terrifying, that Isobel had gathered a den of thieves at her back in such a short time that were already starting to resist authority in her name.

"Mercer, there is nothin' we can do 'til she gets back. We'll probably be more productive if we carry on as normal now and deal with her once she returns." Delvin had spoken up, trying to end the conversation.

"Fair enough." Mercer sighed, taking a moment before standing up slowly. He had taken a few steps away when he suddenly stopped. "Vex, I'd almost forgotten in all this nonsense. Maven has given us a job, a job you'll be perfect for." With that Vex's eyes lit up as she left the room with the Guild Master, leaving the three men behind.

"This isn't your fault, Bryn."Delvin said after a small silence. Thrynn frowned.

"What? Of course it is! You know what he did to her!"

"And you know why." Delvin snapped back. "He was tryin' to humble the girl for her own good, her bloody pride was puttin' her in danger, and now thanks to her lil stint she finally is." Brynjolf silently sat between the bickering men, trying not to listen. His feelings of immense guilt and regret were making it hard for him to breathe.

"Well she doesn't show any signs of arrogance to me. All she does is teach spells to Cynric and Etienne, goof around and heal Vipir, and have her spirit crushed by Brynjolf. She even listens to Etienne talk about his gods damned books." Thrynn spat. "You guys didn't see it, but yesterday on the docks Maul was talking about 'going after' Isobel and Dirge tried to shut him up. Dirge got the shit kicked out of him but Isobel healed his face before anyone could see him wounded, I was there."

"And she also threatens Tonilia, hisses at Vex and constantly challenges Mercer's authority to his face!" Delvin retorted. "Just because she plays nurse and is everyone's bestest buddy doesn't mean she's not a danger!"

"You're her friend too! She always chats with you when Vex is out!"

"Because I want to keep an eye on her! Mercer is right, she's accumulated a lil army for herself and she's in charge of it. She's half the age of almost everyone here and you've already made her queen! Ya think Mercer is gonna overlook that?! A new leader in his own Guild!?" Delvin shouted fiercely.

"Do you even know her story?! About how she became a thief? There are reasons why she can't accept failure, and why she cares for us!" Thrynn yelled.

"Shut up, Thrynn!" Brynjolf bellowed as he put pressure on his eyes.

"No, tell us." Delvin said softly, his quiet tone strange after the array of shouting. And when Thrynn finished telling the two about the murder of her nomadic, jester family, her experience of being a homeless child on the streets of the Imperial City, of how she was found by the Guild and how they trained and healed her, Brynjolf felt a wave of realization. It made so much sense, her skill and knowledge despite her youth, her unbreakable pride and stubbornness, all because she was at the bottom of the barrel and climbed herself up to the top. The way she defended Vipir from Mercer, how she messed around and played with her fellow thieves, why she always listened to them, it was all because her Guild did that for her and it was all she ever knew.

And that spell she cast on him during their first training session all that time ago... the one where he heard children screaming and people being hacked... now that Fear spell made sense too.

"We need to go find her." Brynjolf muttered, remembering that she was out in the dangerous roads of Skyrim.

"No." Thrynn said simply. "We let her go and do what she set out to do." Delvin nodded silently in agreement.

"If something happens to her-"

"Since when did you start caring about her?!" Thrynn slammed his fist on the table. " _You_ of all people know she can defend herself, she's not a damsel in distress." Brynjolf knew he was right but he still felt helpless and in need of making up for his brutality towards her.

"She'll be back." Delvin sighed. "Until then, we need to calm down the boys. Let 'em know we've got it under control."

"Do we actually, Delvin?" Brynjolf said.

"Aye, we do." He answered and stood up, Thrynn followed his lead.

"When she comes back, you _better_ shield her from Mercer." He whispered as soon as Delvin wasn't within ear-shot. "The guys and I can only do so much, and if you fail her again you'll have to answer to me."

"You do realize you just threatened the Second in Command of the Thieves Guild, lad." Brynjolf growled, staring up into Thrynn's hazel eyes. "You watch yourself, Isobel may have you wrapped around her little finger, but I don't bend to the whims of little girls so easily. You best remember that." Thrynn gave Brynjolf a scowl before taking off.

Brynjolf put his head in his hands, wincing from his headache. Isobel was shaking the Guild. And there was nothing he could do but let it quake.


	13. A Thief in a Palace of Kings

18th of Frost Fall

It was midnight when Isobel saw Windhelm. Sitting with her bed roll covering her shoulders on a nearby mountain ledge, she began analyzing the city's approximate layout as she shivered in the cold.

It had taken her seven days of traveling through forests and steaming fields of geysers and mineral springs to reach her destination, the journey wouldn't have taken so long if Isobel wasn't hell bent on making sure she was properly fed, slept and watered when she reached the frozen city. She wanted her body to be at its peak, she was going to need all her skills and senses if she was to succeed at the stupid errand she assigned herself with.

 _'Talos helped you once, he's going to help you again.'_ Isobel thought to herself.

She was going after an amulet of Talos, specifically Ulfric Stormcloak's. She knew he had one, she saw it on him at Helgen.

The fact that she was about the steal what she figured would be one of the rebel leader's most prized possession, that was most likely on his person at all times, while also in a city she'd never been to and in risk of being recognized by the future High King himself or (if the gods were unmerciful) Ralof, was quite ballsy even for her. But she decided it and that was final. Isobel also imagined the Jarl's court wizard would have at least some of the Blue Darthwing Oils she needed for Vipir, so it wasn't all insane.

The Hold was a fortress, the only structure one could make out beyond the thick, icy stone walls was a giant stone palace towering over the dark city, doing anything but shield against the bitter wind. And like any fortress, the only entrance was over a very long, very guarded stone bridge that lead to the city's gates over the White River. There were docks leading into the city sure, but Isobel knew she wouldn't be able to swim across the half-frozen, glacier waters.

She took a jar she plucked from the Thieves Guild kitchen from her pack, opening it to reveal the thick mud she had created for the sole purpose of smearing all over her face. One of the very first things Isobel contributed to the Guild was the use of face paint. Isobel had used it all the time when she was a jester, and even though she wasn't great at it she knew the basic principles. As time went on, her and some other thieves perfected the use of make up for disguise, learning how to make one appear older or younger or even contouring someone's face to change the appearance of their bone structure. They, of course, had better quality paints than mud, but Isobel had to work with what she had.

She tried to scoop some out, but it was almost rock hard from being in the snowy tundra, and she had to warm it in her frigid hands and mix it with melted snow before it was soft and runny enough to spread. In addition of covering her face Isobel made sure to get down her neck, her ears, her hairline, so that no pale skin was able to shine through.

The trick was to enter and exit the city without being seen within a few hours. The challenge of trying to find where Ulfric was and how to infiltrate it without scouting was one thing, but she couldn't hang around at all, or even let the random passerby see her face. Someone sees a new woman in town the same night something is stolen from the Jarl would place one big bounty on her head even if she wasn't caught.

She needed a guard's apparel, if she could don one of those she would probably be allowed to enter the Jarl's keep itself and be able to snoop around while drawing less attention. Their helmets were the same as the Riften guards much to Isobel's delight, meaning they covered the entire face. There were guards that patrolled the bridge, but it was a gamble to knock one out and pray that they'd stay under long enough for Isobel to do her job and leave. And she couldn't knock a guard out, strip him and leave him in the cold to freeze to death, that was unprofessional.

Isobel could see a few cottages stretching east just below her hill, a single guard patrolling up and down the lane connecting them. They looked like farms, but Isobel dismissed the thought of someone being able to grow crop in such belligerent weather. If she could lure that guard into one of those isolated houses, she could probably bind and gag them along with whatever lowly civilians were inside, leaving them in a sheltered place and out of the way.

With that she threw her rope over her shoulder, pocketed her lock picks, and made off, leaving the rest of her belongings and backpack in the snow. There were three cottages, and she chose to target the middle one, it was far enough from the city while close enough for her to reach the gates in less time. Isobel slid down the rocks of her perch, landing just behind the first cottage.

Creeping in the dark snow banks while the guard had his back to her was easy, and once she managed to creep behind her targeted shack she realized the place _was_ a farm. Bushels of wheat stood upright, covered in frost and ready to harvest. Impressed by the Nord's agricultural abilities, Isobel slowly emerged to the front of the cottage, checking to make sure the guard didn't see her yet. He was still far off, so Isobel quickly approached the front door and picked the lock. It was definitely harder picking a lock in the cold. The metal was stiffer and stuck more, but Isobel managed to break it open and sneak inside.

The interior of the house was similar to Gerdur's... one room, stone walls, thatch roof. It was dark save for the dwindling embers of the fire, and Isobel could see the figure of an old woman sleeping on a bed.

' _Beautiful'._ Isobel thought, as she was able to cut the rope with her dagger into four strips and tie them to each of the bedposts without causing the slightest stir from the woman. With deft hands Isobel bound the each of the woman's feet to the foot board, knotting them tightly to restrict any movement. Isobel then brashly took a piece of cloth and wrapped it around the woman's gray head, causing her to wake groggily as Isobel tied the blindfold. She then squeezed the sleeper's mouth open and stuffed a rag inside, muffling the shriek before it could escape the woman's lips. Isobel pressed the cool steel of a dagger to the lady's throat firmly, signalling her to remain silent, which she did.

Isobel tied the woman's hands to her headboard, testing her well-practiced knots by poking her blade into her captive's belly to make her squirm. The ropes held tight as the woman started to cry, whimpering like a terrified little animal as Isobel shoved the gag further into her mouth. Without a sound, Isobel moved and peeked out the front door. The guard's torch indicated he was far away, and it took nearly five whole minutes of the old woman crying and struggling for him to be even remotely close.

 _'I never thought I'd be on a job and curse shitty security.'_ Isobel sighed to herself. She threw the door open, causing a bone chilling draft to sweep through the house. She placed two fingers in her mouth a whistled, causing the guard to jump and look directly at her. He was already running up to the cottage before Isobel started to wave him in, and it wasn't until he was close enough to see her grotesque, muddy face under her hood did he figure out something was wrong.

It was too late though, Isobel grabbed him by the collar and threw him inside, slamming the door behind her as the guard stumbled around and dropped his torch. He reached for his sword but Isobel had already administered a sharp blow to his temple with the hilt of her dagger. Although his helmet prevented him from being knocked out he definitely flattered, giving Isobel time to wind up her foot and kick him in the knee with all her strength. The Nord yelled as his leg gave out from under him, Isobel ripping his helmet off with both hands and swinging it into his temple.

The Nord fell over on all fours, shaking his head as Isobel stood over him and placed her thighs on either side of his thick neck, squeezing shut the arteries delivering blood to his brain. The guard struggled for a few moments, but Isobel's iron grip was too strong, and with a final grimace the Nord guard fell unconscious, causing the ground to shake as he hit the floor. Isobel kicked his sword away from him and threw his torch into the fire, the tied up old woman screaming behind her gag.

Stripping him was hard, he was bulky and it took forever for Isobel to maneuver the layers of clothes off him. Once she finally cast his last article of clothing from him, leaving him only in his loincloth, Isobel dragged him to the bed. He was too heavy to be lifted into a chair, so she resorted to tying his hands on the same bedposts the old woman's feet were bound and then binding his feet together. He was still out cold when Isobel pushed a cloth into his mouth and covered him with a blanket.

Isobel then began to pull on the guard's armor over her own as the tied up woman continued to thrash fruitlessly against her knotwork. Although Isobel was glad the Nord's outfit was big enough to let her keep her Thieves Guild armor on underneath, she was still quite short. The cuirass went past her knees and she had to tuck the pants into her boots. Her boots, by the way, which were also inside the Windhelm Guard's ones, for the Nord's feet were so large she could keep her boots on in his. The helmet was awful too, if Isobel ever cursed hoods for blocking peripheral vision the helmet was ten times worse, it limited her line of sight to only directly in front of her.

She picked up and sheathed the guard's sword, plucked the old woman's house key and took off through the front door, locking it behind her.

The trek felt long in the bitter cold, but as she reached the stone bridge it felt longer. Her heart beating in her chest, Isobel walked the long walk up to the gates, praying she didn't look too suspicious or out of place. Frostbitten shrubs and overgrowth grew in the cracks of the bridge, her foots steps crunching in the snow, the stone work of the bridge was almost as intimidating as the male guard who passed her in the opposite direction. Isobel felt her spirits rise slightly at the fact that he never cast her a second glace.

But the entrance into Windhelm reinvited her nervousness into her. Two large guards stood on either side of a pair of monstrous doors, iron with cryptic symbols carved into them and their surrounding threshold, the main theme seemed to be eagles and bears. Isobel willed herself to not stare up at the dizzying height of the gates, and approached the bronze handles. To her sheer amazement, she was able to open the giant metal door with ease, it swung gracefully on its hinges towards her as she stepped forward. The gates shut behind her with a sound like thunder.

Isobel was still trying to take in the city sights before her, but it wasn't much. The towering walls that formed the streets and alleys were so tall and large that no other buildings could be seen over their height, leaving Isobel feeling trapped and claustrophobic in the dark. The only notable structure she could see was the inn directly across from her. Warm light flowed from its windows, and music and banter could be heard even at her distance The streets were devoid of any civilians, save for a beggar woman seeking warmth by the inn's door. The ground wasn't covered with snow, instead a dirty, blackened slush made the city even more unsightly, and even though the crisp air was _mostly_ clean, Isobel could smell a slight odor of sewage emitting from the east.

She walked north through the dark streets, the Jarl's Keep looking even bigger and grimmer as she drew closer, entering its lifeless courtyard with her breath growing quicker. This was the point of no return, she could very well be killed if she was caught. So she simply pressed forward as she's always done, nearly jumping out of her skin as a guard approached her from behind.

"Frida! Heading back inside already?"

Isobel's mind and body froze.

_'Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.'  
_

"The day shift isn't heading out for another four hours." Slowly Isobel turned to face the Nord man, and spoke, making her voice as nasally and raspy as she could and adding in a Nordic accent.

"I just need to grab a quick tonic."

"By the Nine! You sound like a troll raped your mouth!" He exclaimed as he took a step back.

"I felt it coming on yesterday morning, but it just hit me hard about an hour ago... I can barely breath so I'm gonna take a small potion to clear it up. I'm completely useless if trouble were to break out while I'm like this."

"Of course, Frida, of course. You go in, I won't tell anyone you're off your patrol but hurry back, I don't want Stone-Fist sniffing around if he hears a guard is off watch."

"Thanks." Isobel coughed underneath her helmet as a watchman opened a palace door for her with a nod. To her relief the interior was far more welcoming that the castle's exterior, it was well lit with rich blue tapestries lining the walls and professionally weaved rugs leading up to the majestic throne across the foyer. Two guards stood on either side on the door, Isobel could feel them watching her back curiously as she struggled to deduce which of the hallways and doors lining the stone walls would lead to the Jarl's bed chambers.

She walked briskly up towards the throne, past an extremely long table filled with fine silverware and expensive looking wine bottles, she could still smell the ghosts of venison and pies that must've been eaten there a few hours before. She reached the throne, an enormous stone structure that met the tall ceiling. A shield with the Stormcloak bear hung above the powerful seat, and Isobel felt herself grow even more tense in its presence.

She looked to the hallway on her right, seeing that it headed below, probably to the kitchens, and eliminated its possibility of leading to Ulfric. Instead, the open door to her left looked like it led to a large room, and she could make out a large table with a map on it.

 _'It must be the room they plan their attacks in.'_ Isobel thought as she made her way through the doorway. And she was right, red and blue flags dotted the map of Skyrim as papers and letters sprawled over the table. Isobel saw yet another door and peeked inside.

A steep set of stairs rose before her, and Isobel quickly entered and ascended them with absolute silence. A sharp left turn awaited her at the top, leading her down a very long, narrow hallway, doors lining each side. With her chin held high and her back straight, she marched down the corridor, passing the occasional guard with a nod of her head. The hallway seemed to go on forever, the same pattern of gray stone and black doors repeating over and over as Isobel sped past. At the end she was met with yet another tall staircase, and walking up more softly, was met with a large guard standing in front of a very special looking entrance.

"Frida?" He grunted. He didn't have a helmet on, showing off his heavily scarred and war painted face."What in Oblivion are you doing up here?" But Isobel thought of the Dragons Tongue cigars Felvos always made back in Cyrodiil and slammed her green glowing palm into his chest, his expression immediately pacified.

"I...I need to speak with Jarl Ulfric." Isobel jabbered to the docile giant. She couldn't waste any time now, she was being timed, and if her spell wore off while she was still in Ulfric's chambers she would be in _big_ trouble. Cursing herself for panicking and using a spell instead of a silent takedown, she hastily yet quietly opened the door to the Jarl's Quarters.

Sure enough, there slept Ulfric Stormcloak himself, sleeping under the covers in a large, raised bed in the middle of the rich, luxurious room. The first thing Isobel noticed as she shut the door behind her was the fact that there were no windows large enough to escape through, meaning she had to tear through all the guards in the corridors if she had to make a run for it. She was entering what her friend Bugrol called "the crunch."

"Crunch time, Issy..." He would always grumble to her whenever things got uncomfortably dangerous.

The inside of her helmet was humid from her hot breath, but her years of experience told her to calm down, and she felt her body heat cool. Clearing her mind, she focused on Ulfric, forgetting that he was a war hero with the power to shout her apart the way he had King Torygg, or that there was another large brute waiting outside for her. For now, Ulfric was just another target and nothing special.

Silent even in her heavy gear, she crept to his bedside, looking at the middle-aged Nord as he scowled in his sleep. He looked just as he did all that time ago at Helgen, and Isobel remembered when she first saw him as she hid behind a pine tree, terrified at what she now knew was the Thu'um that erupted from his mouth. She never would've guessed that in two months she'd be leaning over his sleeping frame, stealing from right off his neck.

Sure enough, a chain could be seen circling his throat and leading under his nightshirt. With the tenderness of a loving mother her hands pulled down his collar softly, not causing the slightest flinch in his slumber. Isobel could see the pendant now, the bronze cross with beautiful curves and carvings, she just needed to find the clasp.

A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead as she pulled the chain around Ulfric's throat ever so softly until the clasp emerged from under his dirty blonde hair. With deft hands she undid it and picked up the pendant, using her free hand to guide the chain around his throat without moving too hastily. Suddenly he twitched and rolled over with a guttural growl. Isobel nearly urinated in fright, but looking down she saw the pendant still in her hand, its chain dangling through her fingers. When Ulfric rolled over he basically gave it to her.

Keeping herself from exhaling in relief as she pocketed the amulet, she slowly stood up and made for the door, giving one final look at Ulfric before exiting the chambers. Upon exiting she recast her spell on the guard, causing him to hum contently as she fled the down the steps and down the hallways. She needed to get out. Now.

Isobel was in the grand entrance hall when a roaring shout could be heard through the layers of stone above, following by a tremendous amount of stomping and commotion, it made her freeze and look up in a panic.

 _'Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit'_ She was screaming internally. _'Damn this. I need to leave.'_ Suddenly a wizened old man emerged from a door close to her.

"What in Oblivion is going on up there?" He asked, his voice gruff and aged. He was wearing mage's cloaks, and Isobel's impulsive mind knew what she had to do instead.

"The Jarl needs you up to his chambers! Something's been stolen!" She spoke as his eyes widened. He hurried off, gesturing the guards at the main doors of the palace to follow him as Isobel flew through the door the old man just exited. That was the court mage, it had to be, which meant his quarters were somewhere within the hallways he just left. Vipir's oils had to be there.

"Ulfric's in trouble! Someone stole his Amulet of Talos!" She yelled at the guards staring her as she sprinted down the corridors looking for the mage's room, purposely sending the hallways into a frenzy as she ran against the tide of men and women on their way to the Jarl's side. She scanned each doorway as she blazed past, sweat was pouring down her face now, the heat underneath her helmet making it hard to breath. At the very end of the hall she saw an open door revealing a room with an enchanting table and charged toward it.

The room was filled with jars, bowls and bottles of grotesque looking ingredients and mixtures. Books and tomes lined rows and rows of shelves and the air was perfumed with smoky incense that burned on the night stand. She flew to a shelf filled with potions, they were disorganized and the handwriting on each bottles was damn near illegible. She pushed them around hastily as her hands started to shake, the whole castle was starting to swell with shouts and pounding.

She couldn't find anything that even looked remotely close to Blue Darthwing Oils, and was about to give up and leave before she saw a shelf that was specifically labeled 'Healing.'

 _'Gods damn you Isobel, keep it together!_ '

Isobel pounced on her new target, scrounging around she almost screamed aloud when she saw five bottles with 'Blue Darthwing Oil' written poorly on their labels, the clear-blue liquid bobbing around inside. She snatched all five, shoving them in her pockets as she tried to make sure they didn't bulge too much or clink together when she walked.

She marched out of the room, vaguely calmer now knowing she just had to exit the city, but knowing very well she still wasn't off the hook. Once she re-entered the entrance hall she found it packed with a mob of city guards, a man in bear furs stood by the throne, bellowing orders at the top of his lungs. She noticed a small female guard beside that man, hands bound with her blue cuirass reaching past her knees.

 _'Sorry, Frida._ ' Isobel thought as she merged with a group of guards leaving the Palace.

All Isobel had to do was march with the group until they were out of the courtyard. She then slipped into the shadows, separating from the city as it stirred awake with each stomp of a guard's boot in the black slush. The whole of Windhelm was up that night, Isobel could still hear the distant chaos as she climbed to her mountain perch, throwing off her helmet and breathing in beautiful fresh air.

She collapsed onto her back, unable to move from exhaustion as her adrenaline decreased, her face still caked with mud. She put her hand in her pocket and brought out the prized necklace by the chain, holding it up against the night sky. Steam blew out of her mouth as she laughed in relief and triumph, watching the bronze pendant sway above her.

Brynjolf was going to look stupid.


	14. Isobel's Return

23rd of Frost Fall

Brynjolf was at Mercer's desk, counting a pitiful satchel of coin and gems that Niruin had managed to nab from a house out in Solitude. The elf had just gotten back that afternoon, shame on his face as he passed off his meager offerings to Vex. Vex, who was bed-ridden with a smashed shoulder and a swollen black eye.

The job Mercer had placed upon her was nothing short of complicated. Maven Black-Briar, the Guild's most important client and owner of the prestigious Black-Briar Meadery, had called upon Mercer with her trademark fury. She had received a letter from her partner, Aringoth, at Goldenglow Estate informing her that their business deal was off, denying Maven honey for her mead. This effected the Guild as well, as a good chunk of their income came from keeping Aringoth in line and chasing off any potential competitors, and with their desperate state that meant they were in big trouble.

So Mercer sent Vex in to infiltrate the bee farm with the objective of cleaning out Aringoth's safe of valuables and burning down three of his bee hives. However, Vex barely made it out alive, as the Altmer had fortified the island with more than triple the guard. That night she fell down the cistern's secret entrance, the side of her face swollen and bleeding beyond recognizable and her left arm limp. Upon further inspection it was concluded that she had a broken shoulder, delivered by a war hammer that she had failed to dodge. Mercer then decided that Vex needed Vipir's bone-mending oils more than he did and confiscated them for her.

Brynjolf sighed as he looked at Vex, sitting upright in her bed and scowling off into the distance. There was a time when she wasn't so venomous, a time where they got along and shared a few tender moments. But as time went on she became more and more hardened as the pressure of the Guild bared down on her, her beautiful face becoming shadowed and stony. The price to pay for having great skill among her peers in a floundering organization. His train of thought was broken by Dirge bursting through the cistern door, a wild look in his eyes.

"Isobel! Isobel's in the Flagon! Isobel's here!" He bellowed, his voice cracking from rarely being in use. Everyone in the room straightened up.

"She's here?! She's okay!?" Cynric shouted back as he bolted out of his cot.

"Yeah, yeah! She's fine! C'mon!"

Brynjolf's stomach clenched as he sped out from behind his desk, following the rest of the boys out of the cistern as he noticed that Vex had stood up with a grimace.

"No, lass. You stay in-"

"I want to be in on this." She mumbled as she cradled her injured arm in its splint.

Brynjolf was beyond nervous as he made for the mead cabinet door, this would be the first time he would be facing Isobel after their fight over the amethyst, and he was concerned about how Mercer was going to handle her return. And as he entered the packed Flagon and parted the crowd, he saw the girl standing at Delvin's table as he turned over something in his hands. When she caught sight of Brynjolf in the sea of men she nearly jumped in the air.

"Brynjolf!" She exclaimed. Her face was filthy and rosy from sunburn, and her hair had several more cowlicks than normal. "Look! Look what I got for you!" She snatched whatever was in Delvin's hands and ran to Brynjolf, showing him a smile he had never seen on her face before. She looked like a child bringing a gift for a parent, waiting bright eyed and hopeful for approval, and without him helping it the corners of his mouth slightly turned upward. Quickly she grabbed his hand and placed a necklace into its palm.

"An amulet of Talos, lass?" Brynjolf asked as he held up her prize, questioning her hype and excitement. He could hear the crowd around them whisper in confusion as well.

"Not just any amulet of Talos." Delvin said as he pushed through and stood at Isobel's side. "Ulfric Stormcloak's amulet of Talos." Brynjolf's gaze snapped back at Isobel's beaming face.

"Where did you get it?" He asked.

"From his neck."

Brynjolf could feel the room raise their eyebrows with him and heard Vex scoff. There was no way she could be serious, to steal from Ulfric would be...

"It's the highest quality I've ever seen. The steel is perfect, probably tempered at the Skyforge by Eorlund Gray-Mane himself. And see here." Delvin said, pointing to the inscription on the back of the pendant. "These symbols are Draconian, the 'dragon alphabet' so to speak. I don't know what they mean, the only people who do have studied with the Greybeards...which Ulfric has."

Brynjolf swallowed, he trusted Delvin's knowledge on such items, but this was impressive to the point of being unbelievable. He squinted into Isobel's eyes, trying to read her expression to see if there was any trace of a lie but he could see nothing but her grin.

"I got a hold of Windhelm Guard armor and went inside the Palace of the Kings. I was able to make my way to his chambers and plucked it right off his thick neck as he slept! Oh!" Isobel took off her backpack, scanning the crowd. "Vipir! I got some more oils for you, it's still not enough, but I hope it'll help." She opened it up as Vipir approached, still pale and gaunt as he gingerly stepped forward. He looked inside and smiled.

"Thank you, Issy." He wheezed as she handed him the bag.

"I only wish I could get the rest." She said and turned back to Brynjolf, still awaiting his verdict. He wasn't sure if it was the most ideal time but he wanted to apologize to her in front of the whole Guild.

"Isobel, I-" But he was interrupted by a glass dagger reaching out from behind him and pointing at Isobel's throat. Isobel's army all grabbed their weapons and stepped forward but she raised her hand at them to stop as Vex crept out into the open, her snarl as vicious as ever. Brynjolf could see Isobel was slightly taken a back from Vex's injuries, which made her twisted face even more menacing.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear, princess." She spat, pressing her dagger upon Isobel's flesh. Brynjolf felt his jaw twitch as he made to try to pull Vex away, to disregard her injury and throw her back, but Isobel shot him a look that told him ' _no_ '. "I'm the best infiltrator this fucking rat-hole of a Guild's got, so if you think you're here to replace me, you're wrong. _Dead_ wrong." Before any of the men could respond to Vex's threat Isobel retorted.

"I know magic that would make you feel such hopelessness and despair you would slit your own throat while I pop open a bottle of brandy and watch you bleed away. You point this thing at me again Vex, and I'll slit it for you." Brynjolf felt uneasy at Isobel's sudden change, she was no longer the happy child, her stare resembled the foreboding glare of regal righteousness. How appropriate it was for her to remind him of royalty as her minions closed in on Vex and yanked her back, causing her to scream in agony as Dirge clasped her shoulder.

"Oh, Vex..." A sigh startled the group, causing them to stop. Nobody had noticed that Mercer sat at a nearby table, watching the drama unfold with keen interest. "...Always so insecure." Isobel took the amulet out of Brynjolf's hand by the chain and sped over to Mercer's table, placing it in front of him.

"It doesn't look like much, but it'll fetch a huge price. Delvin already said he knows a few people who would pay big for it."

Brynjolf took his place at Isobel's side, wanting to stay close to her as Thrynn followed, watching him with a close eye.

"This is quite the remarkable feat." Mercer said. "I imagine we'll be hearing the gossip fly across Skyrim? That the 'true High King' has had his favourite toy taken away?" Isobel nodded her head. "Good...You think Gray Fox would like to possess the trophy one of his own worked so hard for?"

"It's not the first thing I've gotten for him that was equal, if not more, in value." Brynjolf could sense Isobel's arrogance swell with each word she spoke, confirming his lessons to be entirely in vain.

"It's always good to hear that my fellow Guild Masters have such loyal servants, such as the ones you've accumulated here." Mercer nodded to the group of men as he swung the amulet on his finger. "But I'm sure if you slept with it between your legs for a few nights Fox would be glad to buy it from us. He probably misses you warming his bed." Brynjolf instantly placed a hand on Isobel's shoulder, hoping she would keep her composure against the Guild Master's taunts. Regardless he felt her tense up.

"I am not Gray Fox's bitch..." She spoke threateningly.

"Well, you definitely seem to be of his caliber." Mercer smirked back. "I'm not trying to be rude, I'm just wondering if any gray pups are going to pop out of you soon." That's when both Brynjolf and Thrynn had to grab onto Isobel before she could pounce over the table.

"Isobel, stop!" Thrynn hissed. "He's just pushing you." Brynjolf stepped in front of her, trying to shield her as he pushed her back.

"Look at you, so small yet so fierce... ugly too, so much like a little imp." Mercer grinned, loving the reaction he was getting.

There was nothing the crowd could do but watch awkwardly as Isobel's struggle continued, putting up a fair enough fight against the two strong Nords as she growled and grunted. Vex was one thing but no one dared to try shutting up the Guild Master, although Brynjolf was starting to feel himself grow angry himself at Mercer's shameless insults.

"Gray Fox's manhood must be small if it's to fit in you-"

"HE'S MY BROTHER!" Her screech echoed in off the wet, stone walls. The room all stared in shock for several moments. Everybody froze on the spot.

"I thought your brother was murdered." Thrynn said, pulling Isobel from Brynjolf and leaning down to match her height. "You said he was dead."

"No, I said my baby brother was dead." Isobel clasped her hand over her eyes and clenched her teeth.

"Why would you lie to us?" Thrynn continued.

"Because the Gray Fox isn't supposed to have a previous history..." Mercer said quietly.

"As soon as he put that gray cowl on his head three years ago I never had an older brother." Isobel's voice was cracking as she still shielded her eyes. "I just broke an oath to never reveal Gray Fox's past to anyone, I'm supposed to forget it myself... _damn me_."

Mercer paused for a moment, Brynjolf could see he was thinking fiercely, and prayed what would come out of his mouth next wouldn't be harsh. Instead Mercer smiled and, casting a glance at the weakened Vex, turned to Isobel.

"I think I have a job you'll be perfect for."

Brynjolf's heart sunk.

* * *

It was after Mercer finished briefing Isobel on her new mission and her deep wash in the lake that she returned to the cistern in some fresh clothes, being greeted by hard slaps on the back and rough noogies. Niruin, Vipir, Etienne, Cynric and Thrynn all lead her to the table, glistening with bottles of mead.

"So Issy, you better indulge us in all the glorifying details of that quaint little heist you pulled off." Cynric cheered as he popped open a bottle and handed it to Isobel.

"And don't leave out any details!" Vipir exclaimed before clutching his chest in pain.

"Am I going to have to continue our healing sessions, Vipir?" Isobel asked, noticing his discomfort.

"Probably, considering Mercer took away his oils for Vex." Thrynn grumbled before he took a swig.

"He WHAT!?" Isobel yelled but Etienne clasped his hands over her mouth, the group looking over to Mercer's desk where he and Brynjolf appeared to be in a deep conversation. They stopped for a moment to cast a quizzical glance at the table, then continued their heated discussion.

"Quiet. He's given them to Vex to heal her injuries. I trust he told you how she got them?" Etienne pulled back his hands, although Isobel was still fuming.

"Yeah, I'm assigned with her job now."

"You think you can handle it?" Cynric asked skeptically. "Vex couldn't do it, and she _is_ one of the best infiltrators here."

"I know I can." Isobel said valiantly. "I broke into the future High King of Skyrim's bedchambers and plucked a pretty piece of jewellery off him, didn't I?" And with a wide grin she told the tale of her adventure in Windhelm. How she bound the guard and the old woman at the farm and how she took on the alias Frida, much to the dismay of actual Frida. She was halfway telling of searching for the Blue Darthwing Oils when Brynjolf passed by the table.

"I'm sorry to interrupt lass, but I need a quick word with you. You can come back right after, it won't be long." He said, the cistern had grown dark and his Nord features were only illuminated by the flickering candles on the table. Isobel suddenly felt nervous, she had been so excited to speak with Brynjolf upon her return but now she felt nauseous.

"Where do you want to talk?" Isobel questioned anxiously as she stood, keeping her bottle with her.

"It won't be long, you can just rest on your bed." Brynjolf shrugged, Isobel noticed how he and Thrynn seemed to lock stares for a moment. Brynjolf led her to her cot, and she crawled in and sat leaning against the headboard. Brynjolf continued to stand before Isobel gestured for him to sit, putting her cold feet under the covers and taking a large sip of her mead. They just looked at each other a bit, Isobel feeling confused and Brynjolf awkward. Isobel felt her tunic was slightly damp at the base of her neck, most likely from the drips of her freshly washed hair. She tried to move it so the wet cloth wasn't against her skin, for it somehow made her feel even more stressed.

"So uh...Gray Fox is your brother?" Brynjolf inquired nervously as leaned his elbows on his knees.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Isobel said with a stern stare. "I _don't_ have an older brother." She saw Brynjolf look a little put down and defeated.

"I understand." Brynjolf nodded his head, Isobel growing more and more puzzled as to why he seemed so uncomfortable. Another awkward silence enveloped them, both of them knowing the boys at the faraway table were watching them.

"Are you mad that I took off?" Isobel finally asked, keeping her voice quiet.

"I was more scared than mad, lass." He answered in a hushed tone, causing Isobel to frown.

"Why?" But he didn't answer her question.

"I just want to apologize for the way I treated you the past while." He said softly. "I hope you understand my intentions were true, but I went about it the wrong way. You understand, right lass?"

"No. Not really." Isobel nursed her drink. Brynjolf sighed and hung his head. "You wanted me to back down, but someone as sly and charming as you should know how to make people do what you want them to without physical force."

Brynjolf just stared at her, Isobel could tell he was thinking profusely.

"You honestly still view me as being charming?"

"Yes." Isobel said simply, making Brynjolf turn away from her slightly. "Brynjolf you're a crook, being charming is part of the job description. Next time you want me to bend to you, become my friend first. I happily roll over in defeat to the ones I care about."

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Isobel." Brynjolf muttered after a few moments, his voice tense.

"It's okay, I do need my ass kicked once in awhile." She said as Brynjolf gave her a half-hearted smile. He made to get up but Isobel didn't want him to leave.

"That amulet wasn't the only thing I stole while I was out." Isobel blurted and reached for her filthy armor on the ground beside her bed. From one of her pockets she pulled out the amethyst, Brynjolf's green eyes lighting up as he chuckled. He made to reach for it but Isobel quickly closed her fist and pulled back. "Tut tut, this is mine now." She jested with a coy smirk. Brynjolf smiled at her, the very same smile he gave her all that time ago at the marketplace, making Isobel's spirit soar.

"Still just as quick as a whip, aren't you lass?" He grinned, his voice no longer heavy or strained. "I suppose that's the reason I dragged you into this shit house." Isobel surprised herself by not screaming in delight at those words. Brynjolf could see her joy seeping through the light in her eyes and started chuckling again at her star struck face, causing Isobel to titter lightly, making him snicker even more before they both cracked up fully and burst into laughter, all while still trying to be discreet. Isobel was trying so hard to be quiet yet belched loudly from her mead, the burp mixing into her cackling as Brynjolf laughed harder.

Perhaps they were laughing in relief, knowing that the wall of tension between them had finally collapsed, or maybe it was simply the way two kindred spirits met together, like two dogs fresh off a leash as they barked and wagged tails at each other.

* * *

Thrynn sat across the cistern, not listening to the table's debate of the value of Ulric's amulet as he stared at the two on Isobel's bed, growling underneath his breath as they giggled in secret like children during worship.

* * *

**A/N: So, in regards to Isobel's relation to Gray Fox. I have played the Thieves Guild questline in Oblivion in an attempt to understand what the Guild was like in Cyrodiil. I still may not have gotten the concept of Gray Fox right...in fact I probably didn't get it right, but for the sake of this story the curse Nocturnal had placed upon the Gray Cowl was lifted by the Hero, but the Guild continued to keep the identity of the Fox secret in the name of tradition. Whereas before when the cowl was placed upon the Fox's head he was erased from history, now the past of the newer Fox's merely are kept secret by oath in attempt to keep his mystery and prestige alive.**

**I apologize if this rubs a few people the wrong way. Isobel will, in time, reveal more of her life in her home Guild, so hopefully if you stick around things would make more sense.**

**I also want to thank EVERYBODY who has reviewed/faved/followed and viewed. Simply seeing the view bar go up makes me smile, so thank you whoever is out there reading this shit, it does mean a lot. :)**


	15. Loud and Clear

The days of cloudy weather had finally come to a head and it was raining hard, making the black surface of Lake Honrich vibrate with millions of ripples. Isobel could see the brightly lit windows of the Goldenglow Estate out beyond the haze as she stood on the rocking docks of Riften's harbor.

"You don't have to do this, lass." Brynjolf said beside her.

"Stop doubting me."

Isobel had only taken a few days to recuperate from her extensive traveling before she claimed to be ready, ignoring Brynjolf's attempts to keep her resting longer.

"Mercer finds out you're more than a common thief and that half the Guild is under your influence and suddenly he's giving you missions our senior members couldn't handle? He's threatened by you, he wants to knock you off!"

"I'm not stupid Brynjolf, I know he wants me gone. I just want to spite him."

"Then you are stupid. Mercer isn't a force to reckon with, you can't-" Brynjolf was cut off as Isobel dove off the docks. "What in Oblivion are you doing, lass?!" He shouted when her head emerged from the water.

"I'd get wet on the way there away. Besides, it beats walking up right up to their door!" Isobel started to wade away, fighting against the current.

"Well, I'm waiting right here til you come back!" He yelled over the storm but Isobel didn't respond, and all Brynjolf could do was watch her swim away and make sure her black hood didn't become submerged in the waves too long.

* * *

Mercer said there was an unguarded entrance into Goldenglow on the south side of the island, but as Isobel drew closer she noticed the entire south side was obnoxiously fortified with barricades, palisades and burly men. It wasn't until she reached the stony banks beside the island's docks that Isobel saw the entrance into the manor was atop a steep drop-off on the _north_. Scowling at Mercer's pettiness Isobel sleuthed over quickly approached the cliff, placing a hand on its smooth stone and tracing out a path among its cracks and crevices. It was going to be a hard climb, but she couldn't see any other way to reach the top.

Shaking the water out of her eyes she began to ascend, struggling against the grip-less stone as she clasped desperately with her fingertips. Isobel probably wouldn't have made it up the cliff if she wasn't so small, she had to basically shimmy along the wet rocks on her tip toes all while trying to fight against the pounding rain. Slowly and excruciatingly she neared the top, and as soon as she was within reach she pulled herself up, panting heavily as she crawled quickly to the wall beside the door to catch her breath.

Leaning against the house and away from the open she discreetly healed her cramping fingers, making sure the light didn't attract any attention. Once her breathing was regular and her body more or less ready she sat up and examined the door lock.

 _'Show that dumb bitch who's the infiltrator here_.' Isobel thought of Vex at that very spot, rotating the pick carefully as she herself was doing now. ' _Can't wait to see her dumb, swollen face when she sees me stroll back into the Flagon_.' With that satisfying image in her head, Isobel heard the click and opened the door a crack to hear if the coast was clear.

She couldn't hear anything over the rain and had to gamble a peek inside. It was clear, so she quickly crept in and shut the door before anyone could hear the storm outside. The manor was rich and warm, with mahogany furniture and expensive looking trinkets covering every table, desk and shelf. The manor was also silent, to her disappointment, which meant Isobel had to be just as quiet. She started to inch her way down the main hallway, noticing her armor was dripping from the swim.

Isobel cursed internally. She brought her arms in close and crouched even lower to the ground, trying to mute the small splashes by lessening their distance from the ground. She admired her Guild boots though, they were soaking wet but didn't emit a single squeak, they must've been enchanted. As graceful as she could in her awkward stance she moved forward, hugging the wall and using her mirror to check each corner.

She had to find the stairs to the basement, that's where the safe was. She had turned a corner from a dining area to see an iron gate that obviously led to the level below, and set her eyes to the padlock like a bird of prey. Her ears told her that two mercenaries were nearby though... two different voices locked in conversation.

"There was no way this deck would have two of the same cards! I know you had that ace up for sleeve!"

"Stand down, you cuck. I know it was you, you've done this before."

"Oh, do you now? Everyone knows your ma and pa were siblings and you've got the fat head to prove it. You've got just enough common sense to hold your breath while you guzzle mead."

Isobel peeked around the corner, the two men were out of sight so she grabbed a pick and pounced on the lock. She was already opening the door and closing it behind her when she heard the sound of a solid punch followed by chairs crashing on the wooden floors.

The basement was full of boxes and crates of sweet-smelling merchandise. Isobel managed to slip by two more mercenaries rushing to the commotion above without raising the slightest suspicion and continued down a short hallway. Unfortunately the corridor opened into a spacious room with one lone man sitting on a chair, nodding off incessantly but still very much awake. The sleepy mercenary was sitting facing away from her, but there was no way she could slip by him. She had to face him.

So Isobel closed her eyes and thought of home. Of sitting at an oak table by the fire with the Gray Fox and Odette and Bugrol and Silas and so many others, all sharing apricot brandy and telling anecdotes. She thought of the soft beds in her Guild, the rich, rustic smell of her room, and the way J'raska always groomed her hair. Gathering all those emotions she guided them down into her right hand, and slowly started to approach the guard. When she placed her glowing green hand on his shoulder he didn't even flinch.

"Hey there, friend." Isobel chimed, walking into his line of sight. "Mind if I take a quick peek down those stairs?" She pointed to the wooden steps behind her that led to yet another level below. He smiled sweetly and nodded, giving her a thumbs up. In a moment of inspiration, Isobel quickly added: "And tell your boss that the Thieves Guild has a new secret weapon. Me."

"Sure thing, friend."

"Good boy." Isobel pinched his cheek with wink and took off down the stairs. She smirked as she thought of how he would have to try explaining letting a thief waltz right past him towards a safe, but she knew she only had a few minutes before the spell wore off and had to hurry. Luckily for her, the safe was right at the bottom of those stairs. Crouching down, she took a few strong breaths before inserting her pick and tension wrench into the narrow keyhole. Safes were always the hardest to crack, for obvious reasons. Isobel started to grow nervous the more she struggled against the firm tumblers, constantly glancing up to the top of the stairs.

"Come on, sweetheart." She whispered, finding the tender spot and slowly rotating the lock. The safe door swung open with a tiny squeak, revealing the contents to be but a single letter. Isobel knew well that papers with seals often led to more riches than nought and quickly enveloped the precious parchment in a leather satchel. Half her job was done, now she just needed to find a way back outside. She spotted a trap door in the floor and heaved it open only to retch at the smell. It lead to the sewers, and was probably where the manor's residents emptied out their chamber pots.

Isobel cursed to herself as she threw her feet over the edge and pushed off. She landed in a puddle of urine and feces, and pulling her hood in front of her mouth to try and mask the smell, made her way to a nearby ladder that presumably lead to the surface. She had to push the sewer gate open with both hands, struggling to squeeze through the gap into the pouring rain as lightning flashed across the entire sky with a crackling boom.

To her utter disgust, the unguarded door she had so painstakingly climbed to earlier was right beside her.

 _'Damn Mercer._ ' She thought furiously. _'He knew that there was a sewer gate here. This thing probably had tunnels all over the fucking island.'_

Driven with even more anger and grit to spite the Guild Master she crept to the side of the house, trying to judge where the bee hives were. Isobel had to spit water out of her mouth as it cascaded down her face. As glad as she was that the heavy rain and thunder were enough to cover up any sounds she made, she knew she was going to have a hard time locating the hives. Hell, would they even stay alight in this rain?

She had no choice but to move on, she would make sure those hives burned to the ground if it meant pissing off Mercer and bringing glory to the Guild. Her gut told her the hives must be on the raised, blocked off islet adjacent from her. As graceful and deft as a cat's shadow she slinked through the shallow waters and under wooden bridges towards her goal, taking note that she could hardly see any of the mercenaries that had overwhelmed Vex. The same darkness that obscured her was hiding her main threats.

She climbed up some rubble and onto the island and hid behind some barrels, straining to pinpoint any brutes she could manage to see. Another bout of thunder crunched the skies, followed by a flash that lit up the ground. Isobel caught a glimpse of a small hut in a closed of area and felt a small flare of victory, but the feeling was short lived. A large man was standing right against it, seeking shelter from the rain.

Even more unfortunately, she wasn't able to see any other men, and this concerned Isobel greatly. She knew of all people that the most sinister of dangers were the ones you couldn't see, and she grew nervous as she crawled on all fours towards the alcove of huts. Her clambering in the mud muted by the thick rumble of war drums rolling across the black sky.

She wasn't good at Destruction spells, only knowing the basics in case she ever needed to disassemble a rune trap or to quickly start a fire in situations such as these. Using arcane flame to get a blaze roaring was ten times faster than a torch or flint, and by the gods did she want to be fast. She crouched behind the first hive as she sunk into the wet earth, trying to channel her body heat (or "body fire" her tutor Merandil called it) into her hands. A small little inferno started to grow in her palms, and slowly she placed it upon the thin, papery tarp of the first hut.

The grumbling of waking bees noticed her handy work before the watchmen did, and Isobel felt the hive start to murmur angrily.

 _"Crunch time, Issy."_ Bugrol's voice told her.

Clenching her teeth she brought up both hands and blasted the hive full throttle. Before the mercenary could stand up Isobel had already rolled to the next hive, sending its walls in flames.

"What in Oblivion!" He bellowed as her first hive became fully engulfed and collapsed, a black, humming cloud audible even over the thick rain. Isobel felt the stab of a poison sting enter the back of her hand and yelped, but it wasn't heard over the sound of the man's yell spreading across the island like a wolf howl.

Iron boots stomping into mud grew closer as she released a loud yell and turned to her final mark, scraping up whatever magicka she had left in her to finish her job. But it wasn't much. The hive was barely alight when the fire in her hands had died and a large Nord appeared from the other side of the hut.

"There she is! We've got another one of those rats!" He had barely gotten his cry out when Isobel slammed her foot in his groin. She vaulted over him as he bent over, running towards the exit of the enclosure, another painful sting piercing her brow as more men poured into the alcove.

Retracting she flew to the other side, but soon discovered she was cornered by seven or so men. Her reflexes escalating into hyper drive and adrenaline pouring into her veins in rapids, a mercenary to her right made his first swing with his warhammer, aiming for her legs. Isobel sprang up, bringing up her legs so her body was nearly horizontal as it flipped over the assailing weapon, her dagger already drawn and slicing the mercenary's side by the time her feet touched the ground. However another brute was already charging, raising his sword to strike. Isobel rushed to meet him, grabbing his large extending arm like a bar to flip her body upside down, and looking back at the mercenary with the sliced side from her inverted position threw her dagger hilt deep into his back while drawing her legs up and over the head of her current enemy and leglocking his neck, twisting him to the ground.

Fast as the lightning that bleached the sky again she drew another dagger and leaped to her feet. There were still several men surrounding her and she needed to escape, she couldn't keep doing combative acrobatics around them in the rain and mud for much longer. They all stared for a moment, those fallen or injured retaking their place as they swatted and winced from bees, Isobel's blue eyes darting among the crowd while she shifted her weight between her feet. The man directly across from her made a move, and she sidestepped the culprit's sword with a clockwise spin, swinging around her dagger with all her force and slicing open his cheek.

His blood was still spraying on her face as she targeted a mercenary with a shield, she knew what the had to do. As she sprinted towards him, narrowly dodging a sword stab, Isobel noticed the mace in the mercenary's other hand. Throwing yet another dagger in his leg and causing him to yell and falter, Isobel leaped and brought her body together. She hit his shield like a boulder from a catapult, making him fall backwards as she gripped his throat and used his momentum to push her tuck and roll over him and into the thick mud. She ended her tuck and roll on her feet and immediately kept running, flying across the wet ground and bridges all the way to the east side of the island. She sprinted the length of the docks before diving off into the black lake, arrows diving after her. She heard the screams of men behind her, their battle cries pushing her to swim faster than she ever had despite her exhaustion. She thought she was finally out of range until she felt a piercing stab in her outer right thigh.

She gasped, choking on water, and fell underneath its surface for a moment. Luckily there was a small island within a few strokes, and army crawling onto the banks, Isobel turned over to look at her leg. Sure enough there was a steel arrow there.

Sitting up and coughing she broke both ends of the arrow off, keeping what was under her skin intact. She needed to get to the cistern before she could pull it entirely out and properly deal with it, she knew that arrow was basically a cork keeping her blood in her.

Isobel took a moment to regain her breath. She looked at the Goldenglow, and while she could hear the distant chaos still she couldn't see any smoke.

She buried her head in her hands miserably, how could she walk into the cistern? Wounded, with a soggy letter and only two hives completely destroyed. Not to mention getting spotted by not one but several men wasn't acceptable for a thief. Her self-pity turning into anger she forced herself to crawl into the waters again. The closest shore was to the north, and she clenched her teeth and swam forward, trying her hardest to ignore the hot, pinching sensation in her leg. With each stroke she grunted, but she managed to reach to solid ground without dying.

It took a good effort for her to finally stand up on her left leg, and taking a deep breath she noticed Riften was a solid hundred paces or so away. Her frustration was only exemplified when she saw Brynjolf's silhouette rushing towards her on the stony banks.

"Isobel! You alright?" He shouted, his arm shielding himself from the rain.

"Yes!" She lied back, but Brynjolf could tell she was hurt.

"What's wrong, lass?" His eyes trailed down her body before resting on the arrow shaft that protruded from her leg. "You have an arrow in your leg." He stated.

"I know." Isobel snapped curtly.

"Here." Brynjolf made to lift her up, wrapping his arm around her waist and the other behind her legs.

"No!" Isobel resisted but Brynjolf ignored her, picking her up bridal style as he made a few steps forward. "Brynjolf! Let me walk!"

"You have an arrow in your-" Isobel pushed her hands into his face.

" _Put. Me. Down_." Each word was punctuated by a forceful shove, and Brynjolf finally obliged and let her down, his retort drowned out by thunder.

"Go ahead then!" He crossed his arms indignantly and nodded his chin for her to walk forward. Isobel huffed and made for her first step, and as her wounded leg took on her weight she could feel her muscle and tissue writhe around the shaft, making her attempt to stifle her cry futile.

"No. I can do it." But her voice sounded more strained and painful than confident. Brynjolf sighed.

"Come on, Isobel." He grunted and leaned down, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. They probably would've reached Riften's North Gate much sooner had Brynjolf simply carried her, but regardless, Hans and Tabitha rushed to them as soon as they saw the limping couple.

"Tabitha, can you help take Isobel's other side." Brynjolf asked.

"No!" Isobel pleaded. "He's enough! I don't want any more!" Tabitha ignored her protest, claiming Isobel healed her in her time of need and helping carrying her to the Flagon was the least she could do.

"I'm taking you all the way to the Flagon, don't you worry." Tabitha said to a pale Isobel, obviously trying to hide her own discomfort that still resided in her burned arm. The adrenaline in Isobel was starting to wear off by the time they reached the Ratways and the pain had become stronger, the hot numbness was spreading to her whole leg, and her swollen feet couldn't even bend their toes. Through the tunnels and over the plank bridge the trio struggled, and as they opened the door to the Ragged Flagon Isobel's eyes started to water.

"Let me walk, please." She muttered softly, and Tabitha and Brynjolf let her down. Isobel couldn't make more than a couple steps towards the bar, but Dirge had alerted the others and they came out. Some with triumphant sneers and some with worried brows.

"Isobel, what's happened?" Thrynn rushed to her, Delvin behind him.

"I failed." She quaked, her wet hair and armor was plastered to her, making her seem even smaller and more miserable. "I-I failed, I couldn't light the third hive..." The shame Isobel felt clenched her chest and throat.

"How about that, uh? Brynjolf's protégé and Gray Fox's sister... limping into the Guild with her tail between her legs." Vex's disfigured face mused, Tonilia beside her.

"Can it, Vex." Brynjolf spat. "She has an arrow in her leg."

"She what?" Thrynn asked, looking down at her thigh to where the arrow stuck out of her armour.

"Come lass, we'll sit you down and have Tonilia take a look at it." Brynjolf retook his position to help her walk but Isobel raised a hand to stop him.

"I can do it." Isobel spoke for herself and Tonilia, who did not look thrilled at the idea of being nurse. "Just give me a tub or bucket and some bandages, I can manage."

" _You have an arrow in your leg, lass_." Brynjolf stressed.

"And as I said, _I can manage_. I'm sure many of the people in this room have suffered similar injuries. If you must, you can watch, but I need to fix my own mistakes." Isobel argued sternly into Brynjolf's hardening eyes.

"Thanks, Tabitha." Delvin suddenly spoke. "I'll be sure to reward ya with something special within the week."

"Give me a bottle of wine and we'll call it even." Tabitha chuckled sadly, taking off her helmet and revealing her pretty face to a taken aback Delvin.

"Oh yes, indeed." He muttered.

"Aye, thank you, Tabitha. Thrynn, help me get Isobel to the bath." Brynjolf ordered, and he and Thrynn half carried Isobel trough the mead cabinet door and into the small closet inside the latrine. Isobel was beyond grateful that she didn't have to limp through the cistern and keep whatever shred of pride she had left.

"It's not warm, but it's clean." Vekel entered the bath room, pouring a large pot full of water into the tin tub.

"That's great, Vekel. Thank you." Isobel tried smiling. Proud that he could be of some assistance, Vekel nodded and left.

"You're going to be fine, Issy." Thrynn said softer than Isobel ever heard him as he bent down to take off her shoes.

* * *

"You can go back to bed, lad. I'd like a discussion with Isobel." Brynjolf spoke to Thrynn as he brought in bandages and a chair, shaking the wet hair out of his face. "I just want to get the details of what all happened."

"Fine." Thrynn grumbled, quickly taking off Isobel's second boot. "You go easy on her, boss. I'm sure she did her best." Thrynn stared as he closed the door behind him, leaving the two alone.

Isobel took off her gloves and started to unbuckle her straps and belts to take off her armour. When she slid off her top Brynjolf's gaze darted away, and she noticed.

"You wanted to watch, remember? Think I was going to clean this wound with my pants on?" And with that she gingerly slipped one leg out of her trousers, struggling to pull out the punctured one. "Besides," Isobel added with a grunt. "I imagine you've seen women in their underwear before."

She was right, Brynjolf had seen his fair share of women, and he forced himself to look. Her body was lithe and toned, and it was still dripping with sweat and muddy lake water. He found himself lingering too long on her collarbones that heaved with her breathing before snapping back to reality.

"Here." He said, gently helping maneuver the arrow shaft into her pant leg so she could pull it off. Isobel peeled the rest of her trousers down her bloody leg and stepped into the tub.

"Bryn, when I pull this out I'll need you to put pressure on it with those bandages." She said, picking up one of her belts and placing in it her mouth to bite. Brynjolf readied himself, feeling awful watching Isobel in such pain, but impressed with how professional she was at taking care of herself.

She clenched her teeth, put one finger beside her wound to press and tried to pull the arrow out, but it was wedged in deep and he could hear her muffled whimpers. Brynjolf shifted uneasily.

 _'How could I have let her gone? I could've at least sent someone with her._ ' He cursed himself just as Isobel clenched the shaft tightly with white knuckles and yanked with her entire frame. Her wail was loud even behind the belt as she threw the wet arrow angrily across the room, splattering Brynjolf with a few drops of her blood. He was too busy pressing the bandages to her puncture wounds to care.

"Shit." He muttered, watching the dark blood soak through within seconds and run down her legs. "What are we going to do, lass?"

"Just press on the back hole, as I heal the front." Isobel mumbled behind her belt. He did what she instructed him, watching the blood pour out of the uncovered wound before Isobel brashly inserted her full index finger inside of it with a painful gasp.

Brynjolf was confused with what she was actually doing, staring somewhat agape as her hands seemed to emit a dim glow, like her hands held candlelight inside of them.

"I had almost forgotten you were a healer." He said softly as she slowly pulled her bright finger out of her leg.

"Yes, and I'm surprised none of you here are. Let me into to the second one."

Brynjolf pulled away from her leg watched her reinsert her finger and repeat the process. The two punctures were closed off, her leg was still in severe pain and a gory mess but the flood of blood had been dammed. Isobel eased herself down to sit on the edge on the tub, and after spitting out her belt started to rinse her still tender leg.

"We have basic medical skills, we know how to clean and dress wounds, but none of us are mages." Brynjolf said, sitting back in his chair.

"I wouldn't call myself a mage, I'd call myself a thief. But considering I just botched a simple job I'm not sure I even deserve that title." Isobel pouted, occasionally wincing as she washed her thigh. "The contents of the safe are in the leather satchel in my front jacket pocket." She gestured to her soaking, muddy armour on the floor. "It looked promising before I jumped into the lake, I'll be surprised if it's legible now."Brynjolf retrieved the leather pouch and took out the letter inside.

"A sealed letter? That was it? Hey now, it's parchment, it's not that bad. The ink is a little blurry but I can make it out." And he read the letter out loud:

_"Aringoth,_

_This document acknowledges the sale of Goldenglow Estate and all property, assets and materials contained within. Payment of the property has been made in full by Gajul-Lei as an agent on behalf of the buyer. All dealing with the Thieves Guild in Riften is to cease immediately. To deter any possible retribution for this act, you are to take immediate steps to protect our assets in any way you see fit. I think you'll find that the Thieves Guild is oft more bark than bite and will likely avoid Goldenglow Estate rather than thin their already dwindling numbers._

_Good luck and may this be the start of a long and lucrative partnership."_

"Aringoth sold Goldenglow?! What's that idiot thinking?!"

"This isn't good..." Isobel muttered.

"He has no idea the extent of Maven's fury when she's been cut out of a deal... but I'm sure he will. Hang on, there's this symbol at the bottom of the page." Brynjolf stared at this strange marking, a simple dagger with a black moon behind it. His train of thought was cut off as he felt a soft stroke against his cheek and started violently. Looking up he saw Isobel's pixie-like features frowning at him, a swollen bee sting above her raised eyebrow.

"You have some blood on you." She said quietly, rubbing her wrinkled thumb over one particular spot on his left cheek. Brynjolf shifted uncomfortably, she was nearly naked and leaning towards him, giving him a fair view of her petite cleavage which he strained to look away from. And there was that small scent of cream that wafted off her skin, so light and evanescent he had to wonder if it was his imagination or not.

Isobel suddenly froze, and they made eye contact only for a millisecond at which she sharply retreated and crouched in the tub, yelping and clutching her leg at the brash movement. She continued to look heart-broken though.

"I think I gave another man that scar tonight...one of the mercenaries...I sliced open his cheek..."

"It's okay, lass." Brynjolf swallowed, trying to loosen his collar from around his neck. "It happened a long time ago. A simple knife injury I got when I was still a whelp."

"How long have you been in the Guild?" Isobel asked, splashing in the water and avoiding his gaze.

"Almost twenty-six years." Brynjolf answered.

"Good _gods_ , you're _ancient_!" Isobel blurted, cupping her hands over her mouth. Brynjolf stared at her a few moments unamused, only to start laughing at her frightened face. Sensing she was off the hook she continued her abuse. "Seriously, you were with the Guild four years before I was even _born_!"

"Shut it, lass. I may be old, but you're still a child."

"I am not a child!" Isobel clutched her chest in mock offense. "I am a strong woman, elegant and poise! With good posture and humble manners!"


	16. Meeting Maven

"Open wider." Cynric called out from several meters away, pulling his slingshot back further as he aimed with one eye. Isobel tried to stretch her mouth out more, but her jaw was already fully extended.

It was the morning after Isobel's fiasco at Goldenglow, and Mercer and Brynjolf had already gone to speak to Maven at Black-Briar Manor. Isobel's very tender and bruised leg was the only thing distracting her from throwing up, she was beyond nervous about what the Guild's most important client had to say about her screw up at the bee farm. Isobel had the unfortunate habit of stuffing her face whenever she was anxious ("If I can't fuck I drink, and if I can't drink I smoke, and if I can't smoke I eat!" She had claimed), so Cynric had taken it upon himself to ration the Breton's food intake via shooting diced beef into her open mouth. So far none of them had hit their bullseye, leaving Isobel's face greasy with beef juice.

"Aannnd...fire!" Cynric dispatched his ammunition. The cube of meat collided directly into Isobel's left eye, making it fizz and water from the salt. Isobel yellled and clutched her injury as Vipir laughed at the table and Cynric emitted his donkey-like guffawing.

"You got me in my blasted eye, Cyn!"

"Sorry!" He called and reloaded his slingshot. "Open wider this time!"

"I am opening wider!" Isobel shouted back and prepared herself for another projectile morsel, shielding both her eyes as Cynric aimed.

"Isobel! Maven wants to speak with you!" Isobel heard Brynjolf's voice enter the cistern just as a piece of beef hit right against the back of her throat with surprising force, making her gag and throwing her into a choking frenzy. In what seemed like forever she noisily retched up the soggy chunk of meat onto the floor as she bent over, and wiping her mouth looked up to see Mercer and Brynjolf staring at her with raised eyebrows. However, Cynric was nowhere to be found and Vipir was looking at his bread with extreme interest.

"She...she wants to see me?" Isobel tried to contain her coughing as she blinked away her tears.

"Aye, asked for you by name." Brynjolf said as he crossed his arms, a faint twinkle in his eyes.

"What? What did she say?" She asked frantically, searching both Mercer and Brynjolf. Mercer merely grumbled as he shot her a cold stare and took off towards his desk.

"Just that she wanted to speak with you." Brynjolf took a few swaggering steps forward, trying to hide the smile on his face. Isobel wasn't having any of it though.

"No, why are you smiling?" She slapped his arm. "I am going to come out of there alive? Or is she going to slice me up and give my parts for her daughter to experiment with?"

"Relax, lass. Relax. She wants to speak with you in the Bee and Barb. She'll be on the second floor."

Isobel's nerves were kicking in extra hard now. She had dealt with intense business situations before many times, negotiating with powerful and intimidating figures who, just like Maven, could have you arrested, tortured or killed with a snap of their fingers. But she had never confronted one over a botched job before.

"Yeah, you're right." Isobel rubbed her neck, taking a few deep breaths. When she felt ready she looked back up at Brynjolf. "To the Bee and Barb? Okay...if I'm not back by next tonight send a search party."

"Just don't treat her like Mercer. You understand, lass?" Brynjolf spoke sternly. "Go and listen to what she has to say, then come back to the cistern." And with that he pushed her towards the secret passageway and headed over to Mercer's desk. Isobel had only made a few steps when she noticed Thrynn packing up his bags.

"Where are you going?" She asked as she strayed from the exit and towards Thrynn's bed.

"Markarth." He said, throwing equipment and food into his bag and rolling up a horse hide tent. "Got to go squeeze a few coins out of a former client."

"Isn't the Reach... _really_ dangerous." Isobel shifted uneasily. She didn't know the details, but she always heard stories of the savages in the area that murdered at random and did all sorts of barbaric rituals. She didn't like the idea of anyone traveling through those rocky mountains by themselves. Thrynn just smiled at her.

"Don't fret Issy, I've dealt with the Forsworn many times. It's the reason why I'm usually the one sent to Markarth out of the Guild. I'm not the sneaky type like everyone here, I'm a fighter. I don't hide in the shadows, you'll know when I'm coming for you." He made to grab Isobel playfully but she gracefully ducked under his arm and sidestepped him.

"That's for sure." Isobel laughed. Thrynn made to bear hug her again but she only dodged him a second time, making him scoff and grin in both frustration and entertainment. "You're going to have to be a bit more subtle than that if you want to catch me."

"Well, I'll perfect my technique for when I come back. I will be a while though, so don't get killed by Mercer _or_ Brynjolf while I'm gone." He said good-humorously and finally caught her in a hug.

"Brynjolf isn't bad anymore." She muttered against his chest, somewhat taken aback at Thrynn's words. "He hasn't done anything since I got back from Windhelm. Besides, I can still beat the shit out of him if he presses my buttons again." Isobel smiled as she let go, Thrynn didn't look too impressed though.

"Of course, it only took you risking your life and doing an impossible feat for him to respect and stop abusing you. You know I'll never forgive him for hitting you, Issy."

"It was an injury during a practice spar, I've had worse." Isobel said indignantly, pointing her nose up at him.

"So you've sobbed in a man's arms after training before?" Thrynn snapped. "That a practice exercise you have back in Cyrodiil?"

"He was trying to humble me in an attempt to keep me from challenging Mercer." Isobel hissed back. "As you can see, I haven't changed a bit and Brynjolf has stopped the training sessions."

"Maybe you have changed." Thrynn spat as he hoisted his heavy pack over his shoulders. "Maybe he _has_ broken you." And he took off towards the exit, leaving Isobel fuming at his bedside.

Somehow his words seemed familiar, as if Isobel had heard them before. Perhaps she asked herself the same thing, maybe while half asleep or in a daydream. Either way, she had swept all her questions under the rug and pretended they weren't there, erasing the idea that Brynjolf wasn't an ally but a manipulator, making her oblivious to the grip he had on her. She shook her head spastically, as if to literally shake the thoughts out of her head. How dare Thrynn say such things to her right as she was about to enter an important business meeting.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly and stuffing down her overwhelming questions, she made her way to the Flagon to exit through the Ratways. She didn't want to run into Thrynn and thought the detour would give him more time to get out of the city while she traveled up to the surface. Isobel passed through the tavern, giving and receiving nods from the men as she ignored the women, and fiddled with the amethyst in her pocket thoughtfully as she moved through the sewer tunnels.

 _'Don't engage in casual or polite conversation. Make sure you identify and don't answer rhetorical questions. Don't apologize or offer to make up for mistakes. Don't be a footstool._ ' Isobel recited to herself as she opened the iron gate leading to the Plankside district of Riften. _'And for the sake of Gray Fox, don't come off as stressed.'_

Isobel entered the dusty inn after a balding, gloomy-looking patron held open the door for her. Nodding in thanks, she made for the wooden steps that led to the second story, not wasting any time scouting the tavern's current occupants. Walking down the oak walls of the corridor towards a small seated area, Isobel came to gaze upon a face she had seen throughout the city many times without knowing who it was.

The woman must've been in her mid- to late-fifties, for even though wrinkles lined her taut lips and regal eyes, her tightly pulled back hair was unnaturally black and probably dyed. Her eyebrows were plucked into perfect arches and she wore make up applied by well practiced hands, making her dark features even more sharp and intense. Isobel continued to take the harsh, sophisticated woman in as she sat down in the chair opposite, trying not to grimace as her leg protested at her.

"You called for me?" She said coolly, feeling more at ease and familiar in her current situation.

" _You're_ the Imp? Hmph." Maven critically eyed the Breton from head to toe, lingering on her blue eyes. "You don't look so impressive."

"Call me Isobel and skip idle conversation." Isobel knew the woman was only belittling her in order to assert her dominance in the conversation, but Isobel had played those games plenty of times before and knew the dance of dangerous discussions. She saw a small flash within Maven's dark eyes, but whether it was in delight or annoyance Isobel couldn't tell.

"You're a firebrand, aren't you? Good, it's about time Mercer sent me someone with business sense, I was beginning to think he was running some sort of beggar's guild down there."

Isobel grew confused, she was expecting the power figure to chew her out, torture her verbally for failing to destroy the bee hives, but no such reaction occurred.

"I realize I botched the assignment last night, that I failed to destroy all three hives. I was not informed the consequences should my mission fail, but I will accept responsibility." Isobel spoke professionally, making sure Maven heard no hint of apology in her words. Again, the flash came and went in her eyes.

"Well then." A sly, knowing smirk appearing on her pursed lips. "I take it not only did they omit information of your punishment, but they also didn't tell you your job went excellently. Aringoth has agreed to rekindle our business deal." Isobel was completely floored, trying not to look aghast as Maven continued. "I hope Mercer enlightens his little minions before they enter such serious discussions more in the future."

 _'So do I._ ' Isobel thought to herself.

"Well, I suppose this is a pleasant surprise for both of us then."

"I should say, it's been a long time since Mercer sent me someone I could rely upon." Maven scoffed, her perfect brows frowning.

"You have no faith in the Guild?" Isobel asked.

"Faith? I don't have faith in anyone. All I care about is cause and effect, did the job get done and was it done correctly. There is no grey area." Maven said haughtily. Isobel sincerely hoped Maven didn't think herself as a unique individual, she had come across myriad people who thought the same way and they all somehow held themselves as one-of-a-kind geniuses. "I summoned you because I have another job for you, and I wanted someone I had even a _slight_ margin of confidence in."

"Where do I begin?"

"I have a competitor called Honningbrew Meadery that I want to put out of business. I also want to know how they managed to get the place up and running so quickly. Mallus is a worker there and has agreed to aid in Honningbrew's corruption." Isobel nodded her head in understanding before Maven continued. "Head to the Bannered Mare in Whiterun, look for Mallus Maccius. He's a sickly, dark-haired Nord with as much life in him as a draugr. Tell him ''the raven sent me'' and he'll fill you in on all the details. Any questions?"

"No."

"Good. And one more time in case I wasn't clear... You butcher this job and you'll be sorry." Those were Maven's final parting words as she stood up from her chair and walked briskly down the hallway towards the stairs.

Isobel eased up slowly, being careful as to not provoke her leg. She made her way out of the inn and into the lonely streets, soggy leaves lay in muddy puddles from the night's previous storm and the sky was still thick and gray. She was glad she'd be leaving the city for another few days, she knew Whiterun wasn't as poverty-stricken as Riften or as cold and belligerent as Windhelm.

As Isobel hopped down the secret ladder to the cistern she experienced a slight déjà vu as she saw Brynjolf packing a bag at his bed.

"Where are you going?" She asked, echoing her words from not too long ago.

"Whiterun." He said with a smile.

" _Whiterun?"_ Isobel didn't know to feel happy or disappointed. "Are you accompanying the assignment Maven gave _me_?"

"Your leg is still too sore." Brynjolf replied as he went to his end table and pulled out some lock picks.

"I'll just take a carriage." Isobel said, growing more and more disgruntled. She wanted to prove herself to Maven on her own. That and Thrynn's words were still ringing in her head, making her want to spend some time away from the red-headed thief until she could clear her mind.

"We are, tomorrow morning at sunrise. And I'm joining you." Brynjolf said matter-of-factually. He looked over his shoulder to see Isobel's uneasiness and arched a brow. "What's the matter? Maven say something?"

"No. I..." Isobel stammered, not knowing what to say. "How come you didn't tell me that I passed at Goldenglow!?" She shouted, suddenly angry. Brynjolf simply chuckled.

"I wanted it to be a surprise."

"That's not cool, Brynjolf. It's not good leadership to keep information from someone as they enter an important business dealing with an important client." Isobel frowned, crossing her arms in genuine annoyance. "Especially if that information pertains to that person. Gray Fox would do no such thing." That seemed to hurt Brynjolf a little, making her feel a slight bit relieved that she still had some ounce of power over him.

"I apologize, lass." He said, not faltering in his packing. "But I'm still going with you. Delvin has someone in Whiterun he wants me to speak with anyway, and it's be _too_ long since I've left Riften." Isobel felt a twinge of guilt as his words, knowing how it felt to be cooped up and wanting to do something away from sewers. "Go pack your bags. We'll be gone for about a fortnight."

Isobel moped away to her bed and pulled out her still dirty backpack. She hadn't even unpacked from Windhelm, so she only needed to grab some fresh food and water.

"You going away already?" Vipir limped to her side as she grabbed non-perishables in the kitchen.

"Not until tomorrow. Maven gave me a job and a certain red-head is coming with." Isobel rolled her eyes.

"Too bad. You stand up to him, okay?" Vipir put his hand on her shoulder. Isobel reached up and tightly squeezed it but couldn't help but ask.

"Do you guys still see him as a threat to me? To the rest of you?"

"I don't know. He was just a typical boss figure before, we were on good terms but never socialized." Vipir shrugged. "It's only been since you showed up that I've been uneasy around him. But if what you say is true...that he was only training you for your own good...I have to try and trust him again. He's not a dangerous man, not like Mercer, but he's still intimidating."

"Yeah..." Isobel said absently.

"I hate that you're leaving again. You have no idea how boring it was when you went to Windhelm.".

"Well, I've still got a day so we can do whatever you want! And Cynric is here so you can goof around with him when I'm gone. And don't piss off Sapphire when she comes back from wherever!"

"Okay, okay." Vipir snickered, bringing his hands up in defeat.


	17. Beauty and the Beasts

The first day of traveling hadn't even ended and Isobel regretted not going by foot. She would've happily walked for days on her crippled leg by herself in the wilderness while dragging a dead mammoth if it meant getting away from Brynjolf and the new "lass" that was consuming all his attention.

Isobel scowled from her seat, watching the two sit with their feet off the back of the wagon while she resided close to the driver; Sigaar. Isobel would've given anything to have Bjorlam back, at least his stories would distract her from the flirtation she was stuck watching, but instead Sigaar only stared blankly ahead, lost in his own world.

The Nord girl was some pretty little thing on her way back to Whiterun, her clean hands and pale skin telling Isobel she never had to do a day of hard labour in her life. She had a modest blue dress on with a brown leather corset, probably lower-middle class, nothing worth stealing from her, and by gods did she have 'virgin' written all over her. Isobel had to listen to her chat about trading with Khajiit caravans while her stomach clenched and curdled with emotions she couldn't identify.

' _Why do you care if Brynjolf gets laid while in Whiterun?_ ' Isobel thought fiercely. ' _He probably hasn't bedded anyone in awhile, it's his first time out of Riften after all, let him have it.'_ But the blood in Isobel's veins didn't grow any cooler as she watched Brynjolf make the girl blush with his charming grin.

For hours Isobel told herself to look anyway, to try sleeping or even start flirting with Sigaar, but she couldn't do anything but glare and viciously eat the apples and cheese from the girl's pack. Isobel ripped a small chunk of wood from her seat and threw it at Brynjolf, hitting her bulls eye at the back of the head but failing at making him turn around. Instead, the rogue put his arm around the young maiden and pulled her in, whispering something close to her ear that made her giggle.

That was the final straw. Without any known motive to her, Isobel clamped an apple between her teeth and slid down to the carriage floor with a pained wince. She began to shuffle towards the couple, debating who to send flying off the back of the wagon...Brynjolf or the girl? Opting for the former Isobel silently positioned herself behind the red-head and brought up her legs, winding herself up to kick him mule-style off the carriage.

"So tell me lass, how is it-" But Brynjolf wasn't cut off by crashing to the dusty road. Instead the carriage lurched into a violent halt, causing Isobel to roll forward and collide into Brynjolf's back. He turned around sharply to see Isobel struggling to sit upright on the carriage floor, her eyes wide in shock as she looked between Brynjolf and the girl, the apple dropping from her agape mouth and rolling away. Isobel never got used to the gut dropping feeling of getting caught, but the feeling was about to get so much worse as she heard two heavily accented voices speak up to Sigaar.

"Looking for a woman, most likely Breton. She's wanted in Windhelm for theft."

Isobel's horrified face paled as Brynjolf bolted up and over her.

"Who are you looking for, lad?" He asked loudly before Sigaar could answer, leaving Isobel next to the girl and thinking furiously.

"A short woman. That's all we know. She's got a big bounty on her head, a big reward too. Five thousand septims if she's brought forward, fifteen thousand if she's brought with the item she stole." Isobel peeked and saw two male Stormcloak soldiers and quickly ducked back down.

"Why are you hiding?" The Nord woman asked softly, only for Isobel to shoot her such a potent death glare she blinked in surprise and shifted away.

"What did she steal?" Brynjolf's face was politely curious and nonthreatening as he sat on the bench and leaned over the carriage rails, the two Stormcloaks looked at each other for the answer.

"We're not the ones to say-"

"An amulet of Talos." The second solider interrupted. "But not just any amulet, a specific one. So don't be givin' us any old Breton with a necklace and expect to get the coin. We know the full description of the item at large."

Isobel still wasn't able to breathe properly when a broad, black bearded face suddenly turned the corner and grabbed her shoulder.

"Hey, here's a Breton right here! Sond, come!" Isobel made to throw the Nord soldier's hand away from her but Brynjolf beat her to it.

"This lass wouldn't kill a mudcrab if it was clawing at her ass." He spoke sternly, making sure not to come off as too defensive.

"We ain't lookin' for a killer, we're lookin' for a thief." The Stormcloak retorted as he positioned his large, dirty hand back on Isobel. Isobel quickly looked up at Brynjolf and starting making bizarre hand motions at him, doing everything from brushing her thumb across her forehead to pointing gestures on her cheeks. Everyone looked at her with severely confused expressions tattooed on their faces, but Isobel only repeated the pattern at Brynjolf with pleading eyes, begging for him to catch onto her muse.

Isobel internally worshiped Brynjolf's quick wit as he crouched down on the carriage floor next to her and mimicked the same sort of hand gestures, even going so far as to add facial expressions to them.

"Oh my!" The Nord woman gasped. "She's deaf! I had no idea, I was wondering why she never spoke all this time!" The two soldiers looked at each other, unsure what to do.

"A deaf girl couldn't rob Ulfric. She-"

"Shut up!" The black-bearded Nord smacked the other on the back of the head. "We're not supposed to say Ulfric was robbed!" He turned to the three on the wagon. "My apologies. Tell the miss we're sorry. And keep an eye out for any other shady-looking short folk, she's gotta be out here somewhere." And with that they took off down the road, bickering and arguing as Sigaar started up the horses again. Isobel's smile of triumph was quickly wiped off her face as Brynjolf stepped over her and sat himself back down by his female companion, forcing Isobel to move away.

As much as being a deaf person benefited Isobel in her time of need, not being able to speak or respond for the next several days of their journey was more than torture. Especially since it made Brynjolf even more desirable to the young woman, now he was "the guardian of his deaf cousin" and "sacrificed so much to look out for her."

 _'Damn than sly man.'_ Isobel cursed as she watched the two flirt by their campfire that evening. _'Hopefully the maiden will like fire crotches.'_

* * *

3rd of Sun's Dusk

It was already quite late when they entered Whiterun's gates, Brynjolf strolling with Ysolda on his arm and Isobel a few steps behind them. It had been a while since he last visited the city, it was by far one of the more pleasant places Skyrim had to offer. The streets were free from dirt and moss and well lit, the air smelled of hay and wood, and no beggars could be seen huddled in the shadows. Brynjolf couldn't help but smile, he was in a nice city and about to bed a nice lass. If he was even more lucky Isobel would find someone to occupy herself with.

He ached to look back at her, he didn't even know if she was still there her step was so light. He half listened to Ysolda as she led him to the inn she wanted to buy, promising him it had good food and beds. Sleeping with naive girls like her were always a challenge, they always woke up in the morning professing their undying love and not comprehending that it was only a one night deal. But he was too far into his conquest to back out now and it had been Rain's Hand since he last laid with a woman, and even then it was Tonilia in the Ratways after a night of heavy drinking. Luckily for them Vekel never found out.

He ignored the rock that hit him between the shoulder blades.

"Here, this is it! The Bannered Mare!" Ysolda said proudly. Brynjolf graced her with his trademark smile and opened the door for her, trying to convince Isobel to follow and resorting to grabbing her by the collar and pulling her in. She definitely looked pissed.

"You speak to Mallus. Find me after." He quickly whispered into Isobel's ear. She answered with overly animated hand gestures, teaching Brynjolf that Isobel could portray vicious sarcasm even silently. She plunged into the crowd, weaving through busy tables and hustling bar maids as the tavern bard started up a lute ballad.

"Brynjolf! Here!" Ysolda called, pointing to a small table in a quiet corner. He walked over and took his seat beside the fair woman. "Isn't it great? Wait...where's Isobel?"

"She had to use the latrine." Brynjolf answered. "Now, what in your expert opinion is the best drink here?"

"The Black-Briar mead for sure." Ysolda smiled.

"Good, I'll buy us two."

"But it's so expensive!" Ysolda protested. "The prices rose yet _again_ this week."

"All the more reason to treat a beautiful lass with." Brynjolf said softly, making sure his voice went deeper. Ladies always liked deep voices, and it seemed to work on Ysolda as she blushed profusely. He scanned the tavern in its dim light, pinpointing Isobel sitting with a gaunt, dead looking young man against the wall adjacent to him. They were deep in discussion, as was to be expected, Isobel's normally slouched shoulders now straight and her face attentive. He watched for a few more moments before turning back to Ysolda, nodding his head as she chatted excitably about nothing particularly interesting. Knowing this could be the last time he and Ysolda could be alone, Brynjolf quickly leaned forward and grabbed her hand while his other trailed down her back.

"Listen, it's been a long while since I had the pleasure of knowing a girl like you, not since my wife died..." Brynjolf made sure to throw in an extra pained pause, Ysolda emitting a breathy exhale as he kissed her knuckles. "And Isobel takes so much out of me...would you be so kind as to-"

Isobel plopped into the chair beside him, loudly scooting closer to the table.

"That was quick." Brynjolf grumbled, retreating his entwined fingers from Ysolda's soft ones and sitting back. Isobel didn't respond, she merely looked at the candles in the center of the table, it took a moment for Brynjolf to remember she couldn't hear him.

"Poor thing." Ysolda pitied. "It must've been terrifying having a giant roar so close to her face."

Brynjolf could see Isobel trying not to laugh, finding the cause of her handicap humorous.

"Aye, it was-" But Brynjolf was interrupted yet again as a Redguard barmaid approached the table.

"Hello, Saadia!" Ysolda chimed.

"Hey." The Redguard replied, sounding less than enthusiastic. Brynjolf figured, it would be a nightmare trying to serve so many unruly patrons. "What can I get you guys." Ysolda opened her mouth but it was Brynjolf's turn to cut someone off.

"Two Black-Briar meads." He felt a unnecessarily hard kick in the shin that almost made him gasp. "I mean three."

"Okay..." Saadia looked quizzically beyond Brynjolf and he turned to see Isobel pointing to a crudely carved pipe in her hand. Growing frustrated she repeated the gesture.

"The poor girl's deaf and mute, Saadia." Ysolda said sadly.

"Tobacco...? Does she want tobacco?" Saadia asked. "The only tobacco we have is imported from gods know where... it's not good quality." Brynjolf felt another nudge under the table.

"That will be fine, thanks." He said through gritted teeth, straining to not sound annoyed.

' _How am I going to bring Ysolda to a bed with Isobel at my heels?'_

The table sat in silence, Isobel's rigid presence drying up any chance of conversation as she stared at Ysolda. Thankfully it wasn't long before Saadia returned with their order, handing Isobel the aromatic herb as she immediately set to packing her pipe.

"Cheers." Brynjolf grinned and clinked bottles with the beaming Ysolda. "May my stay here be as wonderful as the journey." From the corner of his eye he saw Isobel's palm ignite with a small lick of flame as she lit the bowl.

He watched as she inhaled deeply without the slightest heave in her chest, eyes softening as fumes like thick clouds rose from her slack mouth. Ysolda wrinkled her nose next to him as the musty, overpowering smoke tickled their nostrils. Isobel noticed her distaste and brashly coughed the remaining smoke in her direction, making Ysolda choke and retch for air.

That was it. Brynjolf squeezed Isobel's thigh, clamping his fingers without mercy until she gasped and clenched her teeth at him. He wasn't going to let Isobel ruin his night. The whole reason he needed to lay with a woman so bad was because of her.

"It's okay." Ysolda squeaked. "I'm fine."

"Forgive me lass, I'm going to need a quick word with my cousin here." Brynjolf firmly grabbed Isobel's wrist, yanking her out of her chair and holding tight as he pushed through the tavern to a relatively isolated spot by the kitchens. He pinned Isobel to the wall, still gripping her wrist, before he tore into her.

"I don't know what you're problem is, Isobel. I hear your dirty conversations with Vipir all the time, I constantly hear of your view of sex and I don't understand why you're acting like a child now."

"So will I have to try and sleep as you deflower the fair maiden in the bed next to me?" Isobel snarled, jabbing the end of her pipe into Brynjolf's chest.

"Anywhere where you won't burst in and start your gods damned signing." Brynjolf snapped as Isobel emitted a short bark of laughter and made to relight her bowl. That humourless laugh seemed to irritate Brynjolf more than the putrid smoke, and he grabbed Isobel by the chin before she could light another hit.

"I am having Ysolda tonight. Find someone for yourself too lass, you could certainly use the release."

The embers in Isobel's pipe glowed bright with her sharp inhale, followed by fumes streaming through her nostrils like an angry dragon's. But her expression suddenly pacified.

"Go to her place." She said, her words coming off slightly mumbled with the pipe between her lips. Brynjolf frowned with confusion at her rapid change. "I'll rent a room with two beds. Bed the girl at her place and sneak back while she's asleep. She won't let you go in the morning, I've been with her type. She'll hang onto you by the chest hairs."

"Are you serious, lass?"

"Go." Isobel muttered quietly as smoke slowly rose from her gritted teeth, creating a fog in front of her now sad eyes. "Just promise me you'll forget about how I've acted today. I'm... I'm just jealous... that's all. Jealous that you have someone to sleep with tonight!" She quickly added. "I'll...I'll just go get a room...Give her hell." And with that Isobel turned away, leaving behind only a dry, awful smelling haze.

 _'Shit.'_ Brynjolf fell against the wall behind him. That miserable look seared into his skull, not knowing how in Oblivion was he supposed to bed a girl with that image replaying in his head.

He had wanted a woman to warm him even before Isobel arrived, without having the chance to indulge himself amid his duties at the Guild and the lack of desirable candidates in Riften. He wasn't as insatiable as he was when in his prime, or even in his mid-thirties, but he was still only a man. A man who knew how to woo ladies and how to leave them.

And strangely, in some weird way, Isobel reminded him of himself when he was a young boy, the boy Brynjolf lost track of as decades of trying to hold a collapsing organization took its toll on him. He once drank to the point women complained he always tasted like booze, women he'd court every weekend let alone once every several months. He once held a stubborn, cocky attitude, pulled stupid shit on the seniors and tried _so_ hard to prove himself. Brynjolf didn't know where that boy was anymore.

And now something terrifying was rearing its head within him. A creature of lust and desire lifting itself from years of dust and shaking itself clean, stretching and growling as it rose from its slumber. And he knew Isobel was the one who woke it, and that scared him. _It_ didn't care than she was _way_ too young, or that she was a member of the Guild, or that involving himself with her would make Mercer feel even more threatened, but Brynjolf did. And if getting his sexual frustration out on another woman would satisfy that beast in him for at least a little bit by the Divines he was going to do it.

Shaking his head softly, swallowing any thoughts about Isobel and her sad face, he stood up from the wall. He approached Ysolda as if his inner conflict didn't exist, his charming smile meeting hers as he stroked her tender cheek.

"Isobel's gone to bed. How about we finish our mead and get out of here, you could show me that mammoth tusk you were telling me about."

* * *

Isobel couldn't sleep, she laid on her side with her eyes wide. She wasn't sure why they were open as if in shock and refused to relax, the same way she wasn't sure why she felt nauseous...and hot... and restless...and upset.

She rolled onto her other side, looking at the empty bed across the room from her, then resorted to laying on her back to stare at the ceiling.

Brynjolf was fucking someone right now. Right now. Right now as she looked at cob webs.

He was kissing both pairs of Ysolda's pretty pink lips probably... rubbing his strong hands over flawless skin...while her hands clutched his firey hair...

 _'Why do you care?'_ Isobel asked herself for the thousandth time. _'You could get someone if you wanted to. There's tons of loose folk at Riften for when you get back...'_

Somehow the idea didn't seem appealing.

"Shit..." She said aloud and flipped over her pillow, positioning herself on her stomach.

Was she just jealous that Brynjolf was no longer giving her the amount of attention he normally did? Ever since Isobel joined the Guild Brynjolf stood over her like a watchful hawk, and although the majority of their time together was spent clashing against the other she still felt very weird having him focusing his efforts on someone else. Being Brynjolf's problem was somewhat "her thing" and she did not like having her title taken away from some flimsy, naive girl. No, she did not like someone else consuming Brynjolf's energy. Having to watch silently for almost a week as someone else became Brynjolf's focus was _not_ okay, not for Isobel.

 _'What if now that he won't be training you you'll never speak?_ ' Isobel panicked at the thought. _'What if now that you're friendly you'll never see him?'_

 _'Maybe he has broken you...'_ Thrynn's words echoed in her head, causing her to shift to her side and let her feet hang off the side of the bed.

_'What if Thrynn was right? What if Brynjolf has you wrapped around his finger?'_

"Fuck!" Isobel cursed and sat upright, reaching for one of the many stolen bottles of mead on her nightstand.

Being under someone else's control was _not_ her, and as she put the bottle to her lips and began to gulp down its contents she couldn't help but slowly calm down. Just the taste granted her some stability and peace. By the time she finished the bottle and wiped her mouth, she was drowsy enough to fall back onto her pillow and close her eyes, the bottle falling off her bed with a clink and rolling away.

Her numb peace was cut off as the bedroom door opened, the light from the outside corridor creating a silhouette of a broad shouldered man against the wall before it closed again. Even in her stupor she forced her droopy eyes to function, opening them a small crack so she could see Brynjolf drag his feet to the second bed and collapse into the covers, dropping a jingling satchel on the end table. She could hear him breath in the darkness and relished in the sound. Slowly she opened her eyes fully for a quick peek only to squeeze them shut again.

She thought she saw Brynjolf's green eyes looking back at her through the darkness.


	18. Dampened Spirits

"I'm poisoning mead today." Isobel said as she lit her pipe with her hand, Brynjolf grunted in approval as he sipped his tea. Those were the only exchange of words during their silent breakfast of oatmeal, neither of them mentioning the events of the previous evening. Afterwards the pair split, Isobel exited the city and winded down the lane of farms and windmills towards a quaint little meadery, and Brynjolf to a large manor in the upper class district of Whiterun.

He walked with the rising sun on his back, although the morning air was still quite frosty and sharp. He had to keep his exposed hands in his pockets as he gazed almost enviously at the well-built, sturdy houses that didn't have a single loose board or cracked window. He had spent so much time in Riften he had almost forgotten about how cities weren't normally so poor, the mere fact that Whiterun had sunshine and no dilapidated shacks made him feel out of his element.

Ysolda had been pleasant enough. Brynjolf definitely needed to increase his persistence once they were alone, for Ysolda and started to second-guess herself, but once he placed enough rough kisses on her neck and threw the "love" word around she finally succumbed to him. And although she had no idea what she was doing, what she lacked in experience she made up for in beauty, and her soft, untainted body sufficed enough for Brynjolf and his needs.

However, being around Isobel seemed to make him tense and on guard, and if her behavior the previous night hadn't have been difficult enough, having to listen to her whimpering in her sleep really topped it off. Did she really suffer from chronic nightmares? It didn't seem to fit her, she seemed so free spirited and unencumbered.

Besides, he kept wondering about a phrase Isobel had said the night before; _"She won't let you leave in the morning... I've been with her type."_ Whether she meant clingy men or clingy women Brynjolf wasn't sure, the tone in which she said it had been so ambiguous and he found himself pondering whether or not she was the type to engage in same-sex relations. Regardless of anything and everything that happened last night, he knew he had to make sure he and Isobel weren't already feuding again, he didn't think he or the Guild could handle anymore drama.

Suddenly three dirty children ripped around the corner of a home, nearly knocking Brynjolf off his legs as a young boy collided into him.

"Sorry mister!" He cried, the expression on his face expecting Brynjolf to scold him.

"C'mon Battle-Born, you milk-drinker!" One of the others called and the boy took off. Brynjolf couldn't help but stop and watch the children continue to sprint down the lane, laughing and screaming at each other. The only contact he had with kids for years was over a stone wall and through iron barbs, and seeing others run freely made him feel even more foreign and, strangely enough, homesick. He thought traveling to the Nordic village would be refreshing and good for him, but between Isobel and children, all he wanted was to go back to Riften and to Honorhall to see the orphans he had been neglecting.

Brynjolf continued his walk until came upon the largest, most extravagant home he had seen so far. He walked up the stone steps to the grand wooden doors and knocked. Within seconds the door flew open and Brynjolf saw the aged face of someone he hadn't seen in a very long time. Olfrid Battle-Born.

"You're here. And not a moment too soon!" The Nord said curtly as he shut the door behind Brynjolf. "If anything should happen to Arn there'll be hell to pay." Olfrid beckoned Brynjolf through the large, luxurious living area and into a small study.

"Just give me the details and I'll work things out, lad." Brynjolf spoke calmly as he and the old, finely dressed man sat at a small table.

"Don't 'lad' me. Let me get this straight." Olfrid snapped. "The only reason I decided to hire your services again is because I heard about Ulfric's break in and knew it had to be one of your people. If someone could break into the Palace of the Kings, then Dragonsreach should be no problem. So where is the girl?"

"The... who?"

"The short Breton girl! Whoever stole from Ulfric! I asked Delvin for her specifically!"

"She's out on another errand." Brynjolf explained, his pride slightly wounded. Delvin had said the job was for him. "You'll have to settle for me. Oh come now, I may be getting older but I haven't lost my touch." He said with a charming smile. Olfrid didn't relax though.

"I am missing an exclusive tasting party at Honnigbrew Meadery as we speak because you couldn't come sooner!" Olfrid shouted. "And now I don't even get the thief I asked for?!"

"Aye well, something tells me you're going to be glad I was late." Brynjolf muttered. "If you're so frantic for whatever reason you hired us, then let me do the job."

"Yeah, after the last time I hired from the Guild?" Olfrid scoffed. "You think I'd just ask for _anybody_? One of my closest friend's life is on the line!"

"Who is he?" Brynjolf said, trying to cool the agitated old man down.

"My friend, Arn!" Olfrid pleaded. "We fought together on the battlefield during the Great War, now it's up for me to save him one more time... this time, from the executioner's block in Solitude!"

"Okay, Olfrid. Go on." Brynjolf soothed.

"The city guard in Solitude is seeking Arn for murder. When he fled here, he was arrested for drunken behavior. Can you imagine!?" Olfrid cried with disbelief as he banged his fist on his desk. "Fortunately his identity isn't known to the authorities in Whiterun, so there's still a chance to save him."

"You wanted the lass that stole from Ulfric to do a prison break?" Brynjolf raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"This is more than a prison break. I want Arn's name stricken from the record books _permanently_. I'm setting him up with a new identity, it's the only way to throw the guards off his trail for good." Olfrid leaned closer. "First, steal a letter that was sent from Solitude warning Whiterun's guard to be on the lookout for Arn. Second, change Arn's name in the prison registry to Fenrik, his new name..."

"Sounds easy enough." Brynjolf said with a smile as he stood up.

"If it was easy I would've hired thugs instead of a professional!" Olfrid retorted and Brynjolf couldn't help but chuckle.

* * *

Mallus Maccius, a worker at the Honningbrew Meadery, had plenty of reasons to get his boss, Sabjorn, out of the picture. The man's appearance said it all, dark circles under his red eyes, his face gaunt and pale, his hair oily _and_ dead. Sabjorn had the poor guy working himself to death.

"Mallus is the best deal I've ever made. Lent him a bit of gold some time ago I knew he'd never be able to pay back. Nothing like free labor to make operating costs cheaper!" Sabjorn laughed as Isobel held conversation with him.

"No kidding, you must be septim-pinching as it is to keep this place up." Isobel chatted as she sat at the oak bar in the meadery's foyer. The meadery was impressive, with a warm, cozy tasting area with pleasant decor and a massive storage barn attached. The actual brewing vats were in a separate building, although it was connected to the storage barn via basement tunnels. It was definitely a well funded establishment. "This place is amazing, it must've taken a fortune to set up. How did you manage it?"

"Well... all of the gold didn't come from me. I have a silent partner that helped with the finances." Sabjorn flustered, Isobel gave him a curious look. " _Silent_ means I don't tell and it's none of your business." He snapped.

"Fine, fine. As long as _I_ get paid." Isobel brought her hands up in defeat and gave a non-threatening grin. She had volunteered herself, as part of her plan with Mallus, to help take care of the pest problem Honningbrew had in order to give her access to the Brew House.

"You'll get paid when the job is done." Sabjorn slid a small metal tin of skeever poison over the counter top towards Isobel.

"Being paid upfront is the only way I operate, sir."

"Oh, very well." Sabjorn scowled. "Here's half, you'll get the rest once the job's done." And with that he tossed a coin purse to Isobel. Without a word Isobel made for the basement for some industrial sabotage.

If all went well, Sabjorn would be stripped of his position at the meadery and Maven Black-Briar would buy the place, making Mallus Maccius owner of the new Black-Briar Meadery West and free of all debt. All she had to do was put a knife to some skeevers infesting the cellars and taint their nest with the poison Sabjorn had provided for her, saving a good portion of it to pour into a hot and ready brew of Honningbrew mead, just in time for Sabjorn's tasting party.

Barely an hour later, Isobel was leaning against an empty wall, watching the crowd slowly accumulate within the lobby, all with excited looks on their faces and engaging with enthusiastic conversation. The targeted audience Sabjorn had aimed for was great, they all looked important. Upper classmen, business men, proprietors, all were present and busting at the seams with septims.

The door leading to the storage barn burst forth, showing a sweating Mallus rolling an enormous keg towards the bar, his breath ragged and strained. Not to Isobel's surprise did any of the wealthy guests give the struggling laborer a second glance. Once the keg was in place, Sabjorn addressed the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am so very honored that such a large crowd has come to the grand revealing of our latest creation... the Honningbrew Reserve!" Sabjorn called dramatically as Mallus started to fill tankards of the golden fluid. Even with the poison it smelled good. "I think you'll find it quite pleasing to the palate, and as of next week the Reserve will be in full production and shipped all across Skyrim!" The crowd applauded, anxiously awaiting their chance to taste the exclusive drink. Sabjorn continued to work the room, describing the pain-staking process of distilling the wheat seven times to achieve maximum smoothness, getting the properly tainted brown bottles so the sunlight won't ruin the flavor, and compared his honey to "none of that sludge they sell at Goldenglow."

Mallus started to hand out drinks, carrying a dangerously large platter as he weaved through the crowd, all sticking their noses in their cups as they swirled the amber liquid inside. When Mallus handed Isobel her own she gave him a reassuring smirk, wiggling her eyebrows playfully as Mallus beamed back.

"Please, everyone! Enjoy!" Sabjorn cried, and everyone took a swig at once. Isobel brought the tankard to her lips and pretended to swallow as she watched the room above her mug, waiting for the tell-tale signs of pest poisoning. It was a bald Reguard in rich looking red robes that gagged first.

"What's in this?!" He yelled, as if on cue a woman Isobel recognized as the owner of the Bannered Mare vomited. One by one the faces of the crowd turned green, people collapsing into chairs with their head between their legs or puking the mead back into their tankards. Sabjorn looked as if he was still having trouble comprehending what was going on.

"I...What's wrong?" He asked, his proud face now dumbstruck and clueless.

"Sabjorn! You said this place was clean!" A muscular man in Whiterun guard apparel bellowed.

"No, please... I don't understand... this must be a misunderstanding..." Sabjorn stammered, completely devoid of his previous charisma. Isobel had to move as a red-headed Bosmer fell to her feet and began retching.

"I'll... I'll see that you spend the rest of your days in Whiterun... prison." The guard strained the get the words out as he clutched his stomach painfully.

"There must be a mistake. This would never-"

"Shut up! I'm an idiot to... to trust this place after its been riddled... with such... such filth!" The guard coughed up some mead that dripped down his chin. As if humiliated at his regurgitation he unsheathed his sword, making several people in the crowd shriek and jump back. "I, Commander Cauis, Captain of the Whiterun City Guard, place you under arrest, Sabjorn. Now follow me to Dragonsreach, we'll see how quickly your memory clears in the city's prisons."

"Please! I beg you-"

"NOW!" Sabjorn was shaking as he raised his hands and stepped from behind the bar. "You." Commander Cauis nodded to Mallus. "You're in charge here until we figure out this mess. I'll sent for some guards and healers to help clean this place up and take care of the citizens." A crooked grin spread across Mallus' face as Commander Cauis pointed his sword into Sabjorn's back and guided him out the meadery doors.

"Farewell, Sabjorn..." Isobel heard Mallus whisper under his breath. Slowly she sauntered over to him, leaning close to his ear.

"Congratulations on the promotion. But it looks like you have to do one more final clean up before you're off the hook." She gestured her head to the vomit covered floors and groaning patrons. Mallus only snickered quietly. "Listen, I'll help clean up, but first I need to sift through some documents. I-"

"I know." Mallus interrupted. "Maven wants to hunt down Sabjorn's private partner. You're welcome to look around Sabjorn's office, he keeps most of his papers at his desk."

"You mean _your_ office...?" Isobel grinned. Mallus' dark eyes sparkled at his realization.

"Yes, _my_ office. It's upstairs in the storage barn." Isobel made to turn away but Mallus' bony hand stopped her. "You don't need to clean up, you've done enough. I'll put in a good word for Maven... truly, thank you."

"I'm just an instrument, Mallus." Isobel said. "It was you who took initiative."

"Tell the Guild they've got a new fence in Whiterun." Mallus whispered, making sure none of the sickly occupants heard him.

* * *

After carving a small Shadowmark for "fence" into the exterior wall of the meadery, Isobel made her way back to Whiterun. She entered the warm but desolate Bannered Mare and sat at the bar only to remember the proprietor was probably throwing up in the Temple of Kynareth and sighed. She wanted more smoke. Hopefully it would push Brynjolf from her thoughts. It seemed she couldn't get him out of her head, even when she shoved her dagger into a skeever's throat she was reminded how Brynjolf did the same thing when he found the creatures in her crate. She pulled out the amethyst she still held in her pouch and gazed into its purple depths, begging for answers as though she were scrying for truths.

' _You better not be going soft, girl...'_

"Shut up!" Isobel said aloud and slapped her cheek, her craving only stronger as she shoved the gem back into its compartment.

She leaned over and checked behind the counter, smiling as she found the dusty tobacco box. Taking an empty coin purse from her belt she tipped the entirety of the box's contents into the cloth sack, scanning the rest of the bar for anything else to nick before a few townsfolk entered the tavern, to which Isobel hastily pocketed the tobacco and stood. Cursing under her breath she made her way up the stairs to her and Brynjolf's room, maybe she could do some stretching while she waited for him to come back from wherever. She opened the door into their suite and took a few steps forward before she heard a gruff voice speak out.

"Miss?" She turned sharply. A Whiterun guard stood behind her, closing the bedroom door ominously as he stared at Isobel. "I have reason to believe you were involved at Honningbrew this morning. Care to explain here or in the prisons?" Isobel felt her gut drop leagues beneath her before the guard made to grab her. Instead of backing away Isobel stepped forward and under his arm, reaching for the door knob to make a run for it. But the guard had grabbed her waist and tackled her to the ground painfully, his heavy hands pinning her down. Isobel knew she had no choice if she needed to get away and reached for a dagger.

However, a large hand released her arm to remove the  helmet, revealing a grinning Brynjolf.

"No need for weapons, lass." He chuckled slyly. Isobel's breathing was still hysteric as she stared up at him. "I had to do some paperwork at Dragonsreach, thought I'd steal the gimmick you used for Windhelm."

A few heartbeats passed before Isobel's body went limp, her armed hand dropping her dagger to the ground next to her as she burst into laughter. Above her Brynjolf joined in, the two of them cracking up until they resembled themselves the night of Isobel's return, laughing on her bed like children. And like that night, it symbolized the tension between them evaporating yet again. To Isobel, Brynjolf's prank meant he had forgiven her for trying to ruin his night, they were friends again.

Besides, having him on top of her while emitting his rich laughter was pleasant as it was.

* * *

"This is bullshit." Isobel cursed as Brynjolf packed up his bag. "It's already past midday, let's wait until tomorrow morning before going back to Riften."

"You have very, _very_ important information that both Maven and Mercer _need_ to know." Brynjolf said sternly. "First Aringoth and now Sabjorn? This is beyond coincidence. Someone's trying to take down the Guild by driving a wedge between us and Maven."

Isobel had saved the sealed promissory note she had obtained from Sabjorn's desk for Brynjolf to open, and what they found had been disturbing.

_Sabjorn,_

_Within the enclosed crate, you'll find the final payment. As we discussed, Honningbrew Meadery should now begin brewing mead at full production. In regards to your concerns about interference from Maven Black-Briar, I can assure you that I'll do everything in my power to keep her assets and her cronies at bay. This is the beginning of a long and successful future for both of us._

The same symbol marked the bottom of the page, the dagger with the black moon behind it staring out like a slitted cat's eye. Isobel knew Brynjolf was right, that the Guild was in trouble, she just didn't want to go back to the sewers already.

"It's already too late in the day. We'll leave tomorrow morning at first light-"

"No, Isobel. Now." Brynjolf grabbed the jingling satchel off his end table and threw it into his backpack. "If someone's out to hurt us we need to be on their trail as soon as possible. They're smart, they're weakening us before they strike. To damage our support from Maven is clever and dangerous, this isn't a run-of-the-mill enemy, lass." Isobel nodded solemnly.

"Where did you get that satchel?" She asked. "The one you just packed?"

"Ysolda keeps her strongbox under her bed." Brynjolf replied simply. Isobel couldn't help but smirk at his pettiness as she made to get ready.

With both of their bags packed and over their shoulders they took off, walking briskly through the busy streets and towards the city gates. Isobel could hear news of the Honningbrew disaster flying over her head even though it had only been a couple hours since the tasting party, and she felt her chest heat up with pride.

She was struggling to meet Brynjolf's fast pace as they made their way to the stables. She was momentarily distracted as they passed by a Khajiit trading caravan setting up tents and merchandise, wanting to go over and speak to the cat-folk before she spotted a familiar Nord woman amidst their camp.

"Brynjolf!" The beautiful Ysolda ran from helping the Khajiit merchants and raced towards Brynjolf, finally wrapping her arms around his neck as she collided into him. Isobel's jealously only lasted for a moment until she saw Brynjolf's agitated face, to which she tried hiding her grin.

"Easy there, lass." Brynjolf grumbled impatiently as he tried to pry the woman off.

"I was so cold this morning, and you were nowhere to be seen!" Ysolda held tight. "I thought we had been a dream!"

"Aye well, I had some errands to run." Brynjolf looked at Isobel for help, but she merely smiled and shot him an _'I-told-you-so'_ look. "Isobel and I must go back to Riften, I promise I will come back. Within the fortnight we will reunite-" He was broken off by Ysolda's kiss. It may have passed as being passionate had Brynjolf's frowning eyes been closed and his body not hunched and gingerly trying to push her off.

"So kiss me dear, my sweet bonnie lass,

before I sail away!

To make a fortune in strange lands,

I vow to return someday!"

Isobel sang merrily as she swayed in her arms in the air, utterly entertained at Brynjolf's predicament. Ysolda broke away from Brynjolf's tightly pursed lips and stared at Isobel in shock.

"You can sing!?" She gasped. It was then that Isobel remembered she was supposed to be deaf. Her thoughts raced for only a second before Brynjolf took his chance and made a break for it, running down the cobblestone road and past the stables. Isobel and Ysolda looked at each other briefly, equally confused, until Isobel suddenly sprinted after him.

Soon Isobel caught up with Brynjolf's bulkier frame, her laughter ringing out like a bell in the breeze as Ysolda's calls became further and further away.

"You're such a gentleman, Bryn!" Isobel shouted as the two thiefs tore through the pastures. "You broke her hymen, her strongbox and her heart all in a day!"

"Delvin doesn't call me the Bedroom Bandit for nothing!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know I omitted that lunatic from Honningbrew's basement. It just seemed odd to me that such a rich business would have underground tunnels that led to a insane skeever king and just wanted to make things more realistic. Thanks for reading! I really appreciate all the kudos and comments! :)


	19. No Greater Power

Hours later and the runaway thieves weren't as spirited. Although they laughed and chatted at first, the more the day went on the more worried they became. Now Isobel was several meters in front of Brynjolf dragging a large stick against the road in her left hand while her right was down her pants, healing her aching legs as she walked.

"Why doesn't the Guild have horses!? How can you guys just travel around like this all over Skyrim?!"

"We had to sell them!" Brynjolf shouted in reply.

"And didn't your father teach you not to stick your dick in crazy?" She yelled back at him. Brynjolf's chest hardened at the mention of the man he never met, thankful that Isobel was far enough ahead of him to not see his bitter face. "If it wasn't for Ysolda we'd be on a carriage!"

"You should be glad, lass!" He called. "It'll be much longer before we reach Riften!"

"Sure! But I rather have a place to sleep tonight!" Isobel had a point, the sun was already approaching the horizon, casting a pinkish hue on the landscape. They were on the trails hugging around the base of the Throat of the World, and even though they had brought bed rolls they were not fully equipped for camping, especially with the approaching winter. Brynjolf could see how the snow cloaking the surrounding mountains was descending closer to the valleys and plains below them. It wouldn't be long before the first snow falls would arrive.

Plus, his feet and back were killing him.

"You hear me, Bryn? Where are we going to sleep? I don't know these parts as well as you do!"

"Aye, aye! Just let me think!" They would have to rely on finding a makeshift shelter. They were at the bottom of the Throat of the World though, and the rocky hills had plenty of small caves if one knew where to look. Brynjolf started slightly as he nearly walked into Isobel, who had stopped and waited for him to catch up.

"We should find shelter now, while there's still light." She said, gesturing to the road and the long, stretched out shadows of evergreens cast upon it by the low sun.

"I know, lass." Brynjolf looked at the horizon and shielded his eyes from the orange rays. He'd say they'd have less than an hour before twilight. "C'mon. There's got to be an empty cave along here." He started off the road into the brush, Isobel following with her stick as their boots crunched pine needles and twigs with each step.

They scouted the crags anxiously before they came upon what was going to be the best shelter they were ever going to get within several miles. It was merely a deep crevice wedged into a stony cliff, but Brynjolf was able to fit fully inside without having to sacrifice any appendages to the outside cold, and Isobel was apparently quite low maintenance.

"This is cozy." She sighed contently as she laid on their overlapping bedrolls within the crevice, poking the ceiling with her stick. "Better than this one hollow tree trunk I had to sleep in when I went to Windhelm." Brynjolf crouched beside her, looking out into the darkening woods beyond their small fortress. They had a fair view of the cobblestone road from their raised cliff, which comforted himself somewhat.

"I'm going to see if I can catch a rabbit." Brynjolf knew they'd have to ration their food carefully, if he could provide dinner for tonight they'd have all the more saved for later on. They had to at least reach Ivarstead, and they already had very little sustenance.

"With what? We have no traps."

"I have my ways, lass." Brynjolf winked at the girl before standing upright outside. "Think you can start a fire for when I get back?"

"Sure thing, Bryn." And with that Isobel stood up herself and started to gather branches, Brynjolf walking into the woods and deciding he liked the sound of his name when she wasn't cursing it.

The air was cold but so pure to Brynjolf's lungs, one never appreciates a fresh breeze as much as one who's been living in sewers for so long. He had nearly forgotten how trees, dirt and grass smelled, he was so used to skeevers and wet mold. He lightened his step as much as he could with his exhausted legs and pulled out a small throwing knife from his belt, his honed eyes and ears strained for the smallest of sounds. It wasn't long before he spotted a hare nibbling on some grass, its coat molting from brown to white in preparation for winter. Brynjolf readied his weapon arm before silently whipping his dagger forward, the wind whistling from its speed at it pierced the rabbit's side.

Brynjolf raced to the wounded animal and slit its throat, draining its remaining life as he carried it by the feet. As he returned to the camp he found Isobel sitting cross-legged with a roaring flame already going, her pipe resting between her lips as she sharpened a stick with her dagger.

"You sure smoke like a chimney, lass." Brynjolf said as he knelt down by the pleasant heat and made to skin his kill the way he had since he was a boy.

"Before this it had been months since I had anything." Isobel exhaled morosely. "I _should_ stop though, it's so bad for you... but _damn_ , have I needed to smoke since I stumbled into this gods forsaken place."

"Aye, Skyrim seems to have that effect on people." Brynjolf chuckled.

"No, not Skyrim. The Guild." Brynjolf felt a sudden sadness at her words. "How come the women in that place hate me?"

"Mercer hates you and he's not a woman."

"Well, he's definitely a cunt." Isobel huffed out another cloud indignantly. "How did someone like _him_ become Guild Master?"

"A long time ago, our previous Guild Master, Gallus, was murdered." Brynjolf spoke, trying to keep his voice light as he continued preparing their dinner. He had only been in the Guild for little over a year when the tragedy happened. His first Guild Master, his mentor, role model and the closest thing to a father he ever had, killed in cold blood by his lover and left to rot in the Nordic tomb they were looting. "After he was killed the Guild was thrown into disarray. Several stepped up and tried to claim Gallus' former position of Guild Master. Sides quickly formed... and soon the Ratway became a bloodbath."

"And you were part of all that?" Isobel asked him with big eyes. "Did you fight?"

"I saw what some of those men did to Gallus. Mercer was his closest friend, the most experienced, and he actually wanted to use the Guild's resources to hunt down Gallus' murderer. The rest didn't even care Gallus was gone. So aye, I fought for Mercer. Fortunately, he persevered and the other groups were killed off or fled Skyrim." Brynjolf couldn't remember the last time he had gone into the details of the Guild's tragedy all those years ago, if he ever did. The more he spoke of them the more he invited all that dormant pain back into his heart. He tried to sum up the rest of the events quickly as he could as he peeled the skin off the rabbit, revealing the tender meat inside.

"Mercer was always irritable and tense, but he wasn't as bad as he was now. We used to have drinks together once in awhile, or play cards. I just don't think he ever got over Gallus' death, and when he ran out of leads as to where Gallus' murderer went and the Guild started going downhill he grew more and more bitter."

"Seems that phenomena happened to all the senior members." Isobel stated, passing him her sharpened branch to skewer the rabbit. Brynjolf felt somewhat taken aback, he had known he had grown hard-hearted over the years but no one had called him out on it so blatantly. "My brother wasn't even twenty-seven when he was made Gray Fox... But he was already quite powerful within the Guild. My grandfather was a wise man, and taught us a form of power than was stronger than fear, beauty, rank, or even money."

Brynjolf speared the hare and began to roast it over the open flames. She was casually talking about her brother, her family. She didn't know that Thrynn had told him her story but she was opening up to him anyway.

"Love... There is no greater power in mankind than to command the love of another. That's what grandfather always said."

Brynjolf frowned at she tapped the expired ash out of her pipe.

_'What is she talking about? A thief preaching about love like some Priest of Mara?'_

"When you love someone you bend over backwards for them, you let them control you, you fight for them, you play the fool for them. And the surest way to earn that love is to love first. It's how I got those 'loyal servants' Mercer called them. He doesn't love anyone, that's why I think he's a poor leader and bound to fall. Everything the boys do for me they know I would do for them." Isobel spoke as if what she was saying was the simplest thing in the world.

"Well, I learned early on that the more you love the weaker you are." Brynjolf grumbled, trying not to become too angry. The whole conversation was plucking painful strings that reverberated in his chest. Isobel noticed his discomfort.

"Do you feel strong?" She asked. Brynjolf nearly growled at her but instead glared into the meat of the rabbit that was starting to sizzle its juices. She was pushing him to the edge again and did not want yet another fight with her. "Whether you know it or not I care about you."

Brynjolf froze, nearly dropping their meal into the fire. What was this? A criminal throwing the words "love" and "I care about you" around like a swear out of a Stormcloak's mouth. His whole body clenched. Those were the very last words he had ever, _ever_ wanted to hear from a woman he was having trouble getting out from under his skin. Conversation stopped between them for several minutes, the only sounds those of buzzing insects and the crackling flames as the sky blackened. Brynjolf's mind was swirling, still reeling at Isobel's confession.

"You're burning it." Isobel said suddenly and gestured to the speared rabbit. Brynjolf quickly retreated it, inspecting its flesh to see if it was thoroughly cooked.

They remained silent as they ate as well, stopping only to drink from their canteens. Brynjolf stole glances at Isobel whenever he could, her words echoing around his head. She had a very pretty face, but her crude mannerisms and androgynous appearance prevented her from being any sort of conventional beauty and wouldn't result in very many men giving her a double-take. Brynjolf imagined if the highest court in High Rock were to fix her horrible hair and throw on an elegant dress she still wouldn't pass as a proper lady. She definitely lacked femininity.

"Do you want to know how my brother and I became thieves?" Isobel tried coaxing Brynjolf out of his silence, her lips shiny with rabbit grease and eyes reflecting the flames before her. He simply nodded, not telling her he already knew. And she told him about how she was a jester and an acrobat, about her closeness to her grandfather, that Nord bandits butchered her family when she was twelve, but one detail was different.

"I was shaking my grandfather's body when my brother tore me away and threw me over his shoulder. He was twenty at the time and fast as an arrow. He ran without looking back as I clawed and bit at him to turn around." Isobel paused, taking a brief moment before continuing. "We survived in the wilderness for weeks until we reached the Imperial City, it always gets me when people believe that a twelve year old pipsqueak was able to travel from Skyrim to the Imperial City and not get killed. We had good survival skills, we lived on the road our whole lives after all, but once we reached the Imperial City things became harder. We were homeless for several months until my brother somehow contacted the Thieves Guild. He said he couldn't stand seeing me in poverty, that we needed to steal to survive now."

"But the Guild didn't want to take me in, they said I was too young and would just leech off their resources without bringing in any coin. They did _not_ want a child in their ranks. I had to live in the attic of an old warehouse for over three months by myself, my brother would bring me food and essentials whenever he could. As he became more popular among the members he _finally_ convinced them to let me in."

"It was hard at first, I was treated very differently because of my age so I trained extra hard, I didn't want to be a liability. It's basically all I ever did for the first few years, train and learn. The skills I acquired with acrobatics, juggling and performing did give me a fair advantage, and soon I was being given the same jobs as everyone else and treated like an adult member... which I won't deny was fairly damaging to a child." The light, humourous tone she said the last sentence made Brynjolf uneasy. He sat up a little straighter as he tossed his rabbit bones into the fire, continuing to look at her curiously.

"Regardless, my brother and I lived by our grandfather's lesson and made a friendship and bond between each and every member of the Guild...well, I tried." Isobel chuckled. "There were people I _definitely_ didn't get along with, and I couldn't bring myself to show them affection. But my brother was amazing, I bet Vex would like him, probably even Mercer... He had the Guild in his pocket, and when the previous Gray Fox passed away everyone wanted my brother to put on the cowl. He's an amazing leader, he was born for it I think... Now it's your turn."

"...Excuse me?"

"How did you become involved with the Guild?" Isobel made it sound like it was a simple question that was going to have a simple answer.

"Maybe another time, lass." Brynjolf felt it again, that tension that he tried to suppress and block out, not wanting to speak too much lest his words grow barbed and hurtful. Isobel eyed him knowingly but let his answer slide.

"Come over here then." She patted the dirt beside her. "I'll heal your legs for a bit before we go to sleep. I know they're sore, I healed mine for a majority of the hike and they're still tired." Brynjolf hesitated, not knowing what procedure she had in mind. "Bryn, come on!"

"Alright, alright!" He scoffed exasperatedly. He wasn't prepared for Isobel to start untying the laces of his boots as soon as he positioned himself beside her. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not gifted enough to heal through clothes." She said, yanking off his shoe and socks and exposing his foot to the cold night air. "Don't get excited, I'm not healing your thighs." The jest was smug and good-humoured as her hands lit up dimly and grabbed his right foot.

Brynjolf grimaced and leaned up, they were extremely sore and Isobel's small hands were unexpectedly strong. She sat facing him, kneading his arches.

"So...uh..." He began with gritted teeth, hoping conversation would ease the awkwardness he was experiencing of having his female understudy massaging him.

"What?" Isobel asked, looking up at him from behind his foot.

"Well..."

"We don't need to talk, you know." Isobel interrupted. "I enjoy sharing silence with you... Gods, just _relax_ Brynjolf." She scolded as she started pressing her thumbs into his ankles.

Slowly Brynjolf laid back, letting Isobel do her work as he felt the pain ebb away. It was hard at first, but within a minute he felt content and fully at ease, he didn't even flinch or shift when she rolled up his pant legs and began to work his calf muscles and shin splints, the coolness of the hard earth beneath him contrasted by the warmth of the fire and Isobel's hands. His inner peace reached an even deeper plateau as the song of crickets grew steadily louder around them and the blinking lights of torch bugs illuminated the tall grass. He could look straight up and see the full, copper-coloured Masser beyond the outline of pines and sighed heavily.

Brynjolf could've swore Isobel was using Calm on him, that's what it felt like all that time ago during their first training session, when Isobel punched him square in the jaw with a Fear spell then proceeded to cry and hold him. He looked down at her, half expecting her hands to be glowing green instead of yellow, and saw her tenderly gazing, almost lovingly, at the shin she was caressing. He watched her watch him, a dull heat festering in his chest. She had openly confessed to caring about him, and just thinking about that concept was enough to get Brynjolf's heart rate growing, and soon enough Isobel's peripherals told her she was being watched and she looked up to match her blue eyes against his green ones.

Before Brynjolf's inner conflicts could even start their war, a heavy rumbling started to crash down the Throat of the World. At first he thought it was a rock slide, and quickly grabbed Isobel and pulled her into the crevice with him, disregarding his bare feet. However, the thunder slowly morphed into a word he'd only heard in legends.

_"Dovahkiin."_

The sonic wave pulsed over the land, echoing as far as they could hear, causing the trees outside their shelter to shake and their fire to blow out like a candle flame. The pair shuffled as close as they could get to the back of the crevice, straining to hear another roar or the beating of wings as they tried to keep their breathing steady. That's when Brynjolf realized Isobel had her dagger drawn and was actually crouched into a very low battle-stance. He could even see her left arm spread out as if shielding him, trying to block him from... whatever was out there.

But that was it. The night returned to its tranquil serenity, the crickets and torchbugs lingering as if nothing ever happened. Isobel slowly crept forward.

"Don't!" Brynjolf hissed, grabbing one of her belts and holding her back.

"Let me look." She whispered. Brynjolf didn't let go but moved with her, both of them peering out of their crevice.

"That was a dragon, right lass?"

"I think so." Quick as lightening Isobel unbuckled her captive belt and sprang out of the crevice. Brynjolf made to grab her foot but missed.

_"Isobel! Get back here!"_ But she only sped a few feet further before grabbing his boots and sprinting back.

"Sorry, but I'm done healing tonight." She muttered under her breath as she tossed the shoes in front of Brynjolf and collapsed onto the stone floor beside him. "Good luck trying to sleep tonight."

"No kidding..." They were still whispering, still trapped in preserving their silence as Brynjolf put on his boots and crawled into his bedroll.

The crevice was cramped but there was no way Brynjolf was going to sleep facing Isobel, she seemed to have the same idea as she turned away from him, an unspoken oath of only sleeping back to back hung over them. As cold as the night was going to get in just their bedrolls he was _not_ going to hold her to conserve body heat, that was only a line he used when he wanted to cuddle with a woman (as if he would ever "conserve body heat" with Delvin).

But Isobel's actions were still very fresh in Brynjolf's mind, and as he dwelt on them he suddenly felt like someone had punched him in the chest, unable to comprehend that a tiny Breton was trying to shield him from a dragon. Never in his forty-three years had a woman ever tried to protect him, and he wasn't sure whether to feel emasculated or touched. Either way, he felt that Isobel had bored herself even closer to his core, that she had removed a few bricks from the walls he worked so hard to construct.

_'Gods help me.'_ He internally prayed as the last glowing ember of their fire died.


	20. Attempt at Horse Theft

"R'vanni was not in his best state of mind when he promised that."

"What do I have to do? Hm?" Isobel wedged her dagger into the table. "Get you drunk? Get you high?"

"Isobel should stop such nonsense-"

"You gave me your word!" The Khajiit jumped as she stabbed her blade deeper into the oak wood. She wasn't leaving the room until she got what she wanted, she brushed and braided her hair especially for the occasion, even spritzing some floral perfume on her neck.

"I was drunk... I didn't mean it." R'vanni's ringed tail had stopped swishing behind his chair the more the conversation continued. Isobel could see his bristled, gray fur poking through his Thieves Guild armour.

"You swore you'd bed me before the end of Evening Star. You said _you'd_ be the one to claim my virginity." Isobel spoke through clenched teeth, pulling out her dagger from the table and pointing it between her legs. "I want it gone, R'vanni."

"You are a cub-"

"No, I'm not." Isobel slid out of her chair, kneeling down and placing her hands on the Khajiit's thighs. "I'm sick of conversation dropping as soon as I enter the room, I don't want every bottle of mead to be followed by a mass debate on whether or not I should be drinking. They all think I'm stupid R'vanni! They think I don't know what happens behind locked doors or-"

"Isobel, please-"

"I'm not a cub. Not anymore." Isobel ungracefully crawled up on R'vanni's lap, brashly snatching one of his paws and placing it on her bare breast. She could feel his slight tremor and see his whiskers quivering and got a small satisfaction in even that. She had no idea what she was doing, she didn't even know what she was attracted to. She just wanted to be an adult, and when R'vanni made his drunk promise to her she kept him to his word, she was through being patronized.

"Don't make R'vanni do this..." The words came out in a whisper. Isobel pulled the tie from her braid shook out her long, raven hair, then leaned in and kissed the Khajiit's nose.

"Please R'vanni, for me." Isobel whispered back, scratching behind his ears. R'vanni seemed to like that, for Isobel suddenly felt the hardened bulge underneath her and instantly grew frightened. This was really happening, all the eavesdropping on the other women flooded back to her. How sometimes sex hurt, especially sex with Khajiit, they had barbs...

The hardness only pressed into her further as her eyes widened and her lips tightened, the moment seemed so surreal. She looked back up at R'vanni's face only to see dark, rich blood cascading out from between his pointed teeth.

He gurgled as the blood poured onto Isobel's pale skin, causing her to shriek and fall off his lap. She shuffled further back, screaming as R'vanni's gray fur grew crimson before he finally slumped to the floor. A Pentius Oculatus agent stood from behind R'vanni's chair, stepping over the seeping Khajiit's corpse as he walked over to the crying, naked girl.

With a blank expression he whipped his wet sword in front of her, spraying her face with R'vanni's blood.

* * *

Isobel bolted upright with a gasp, wiping her face with her sleeve and making sure the wetness was due to her cold sweat. She relaxed and regained her breathing when she realized she was in Skyrim, in a cave with...

_'Oh gods.'_

Isobel looked next to her to see Brynjolf curled up against the opposite wall. She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, he looked ridiculous so squished against the stone, making a good ten inches of space between them. No wonder she felt as cold as death, the Bedroom Bandit was apparently afraid of girl cooties.

She shivered in the morning air, her perspiration making it feel even more chilly, and rolled onto her stomach, looking out into the brightly-lit woods and trying to get a read on the time. Dawn was definitely over, but she couldn't get a good look at the sun for the canopies were too thick. She turned her gaze back over to the hooded man beside her, and sat up to examine the Nord more fully.

Lady Luck seemed to favour Isobel that morning, for Brynjolf was out cold and nothing brought Isobel more enjoyment and satisfaction than waking up a deep sleeper. She opened her mouth to scream, but she somehow couldn't get any sound out. It seemed too cruel to scare him.

Instead she tenderly pulled back his hood and brushed the hair from his face until she had enough skin exposed that would grant a good sting when slapped. But the more of Brynjolf's handsome face she uncovered the more she found herself unable to hit him, she became too enthralled by his strong, stubbled jaw, became too distracted watching his adam's apple move when he swallowed. She found her attention caught by the whisper of crow's feet that festered by his eyes.

She was suddenly thrown back to another time when she was in this very position, leaning over him as he lay drunk and asleep behind a Statue of Talos, just before her escapade to Windhelm.

 _'Gods...that seems so long ago...'_ She thought as she retreated her hand and placed it in her pocket, making sure the amethyst was still with her.

Brynjolf was so charming and sheepish when he was with Ysolda, and so secretive and tight-lipped around her. How could someone be such a dog one minute be a complex puzzle the next, she knew he was avoiding her last night when she asked how he became involved in the Guild, and she saw how he got emotional when he mentioned his previous Guild Master.

A songbird brought Isobel's attention back outside, wanting to cripple whatever being dared try to awake her companion. She thought hunting it down for breakfast might be a better solution, Brynjolf had provided for her the night before so it only made sense that she would be in charge of the morning meal.

She crawled out of the crevice and stood up, warming her hands with her breath as she scanned the area. She couldn't see anything that would qualify as a meal, that was until a movement faraway down south the cobblestone road grabbed her attention. She took as few steps forward and squinted, it was a horse, but she couldn't make out the rider.

A horse...

Isobel looked at Brynjolf, still slumbering in the crevice. His legs had been so tight when she healed him, if she could get a horse that meant they'd be back in Riften in half the time without causing him discomfort.

Isobel looked back at the approaching rider, still unable to make out their features, then back to Brynjolf. It would be easier if he was awake, horse theft with two people was an amateur gig and a guaranteed success, but... how brilliant would it be for him to wake up with a horse all ready to go? The image was perfect, giving him the Amulet of Talos was more than satisfying, to pull another impressive heist would only bring her more pride.

Her mind was already made up, with one quick glance to make sure Brynjolf was still sleeping Isobel silently trotted down the rocky crags. As she neared the road she made her step even more light and crouched lower down, she needed a good look of the rider and their equipment before making any brash decisions...well, at least not any more.

Creeping in some shaded bushes right next to the road, Isobel peered through the shadows, about a hundred feet down was a young woman around Isobel's age. Her auburn-brown hair was tied back loosely and she was wearing the strangest armor with bear-like images carved into the silver metal.

Isobel could tell she was not a malicious person, the way she held herself was non-threatening but she definitely had an air of honour and righteousness. She was a person who could slice someone in half or shake your hand and be a loyal ally, Isobel had dealt with these types of people enough to recognize them instantly. Slowly, Isobel crawled out from the brush and laid down, sprawling out just enough to remain inconspicuous but impossible to miss.

Forever she seemed to lay there, her patience encouraged by the morning songbirds and the gentle breeze ruffling the trees, the horse's clops growing louder as the animal neared. Isobel prepared herself when she heard the woman pull the reins.

"Woah, there."

Isobel felt the rider approach, felt her body lean over her.

"Oh sweet Kynareth...Miss? Miss, are you alright?" She shook Isobel's shoulder while her other hand checked for any wounds. "Miss?"

Isobel recalled the time Trilion gave her a box filled with live rats that exploded from some firesalt mixture he fed them and slapped the woman hard in the face... however, she didn't take off running. Isobel quickly opened her eyes and saw an amulet of Kynareth dangling in front of her nose. The second thing Isobel noticed was the Breton woman holding her cheek...a Breton...

 _'Shit!'_ Isobel cursed. Bretons were more resistant to magic, especially stronger ones, and Isobel had underestimated her and didn't think of a more powerful spell. _'I need to think of something scarier.'_

The Breton woman's face turned from shocked to furious, and Isobel knew she was going to get plenty more memories for Fear. The woman snatched Isobel by the collar and pulled her up.

"Who-" The Breton started but Isobel had already unsheathed her dagger and sliced the warrior's hand, making her let go instantly with a yelp as Isobel grabbed her by her hair.

"Okay, Lady Valiant, you have two choices." Isobel threatened as she pulled the woman into a chokehold and pressed her dagger to her throat. She was just winging it now, she had no idea what she was doing. "One, you give me the horse and everything on it or two, I rip open your jugulars and-" She was cut off as the Breton flipped her over her shoulder and onto the hard road.

Isobel didn't grant herself time to try and breath in the air that was knocked out of her, she had already brought up both her feet in attempt to pry the warrior's grip on her armed hand. They struggled there for a bit, the warrior trying to grip onto Isobel's wrist while reaching for something on her back as Isobel contorted and squirmed in retaliation, shoving her free-hand and feet into the Breton's face. Finally, with a well placed kick to the woman's nose, she let go with a gasp as Isobel sprang up on her feet.

Isobel too was caught off guard as something bashed her own nose, and she could instantly feel the blood splash over her lips and chin as she crashed to the ground. Still gripping onto her dagger, she made to get back up yet again before she felt a cool blade on the side of her neck and halted.

The Breton warrior had drawn a large steel battleaxe, Isobel could see the bloody base of the handle that had crushed her nose as she spit out some of the red-liquid. A couple drops landed on the battleaxe's steel, and Isobel could see the woman's scowl grow deeper. However, the two bloody-nosed Breton women simply glared at each other for a few beats.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't decapitate you right now." The woman growled as she pressed the axe slightly further on Isobel's flesh. Isobel felt her bottom lip quiver and slowly she raised her hands, her breathing growing more ragged as her eyes welled up.

"Please... don't kill me." Isobel pleaded tearfully. She could tell the warrior was slightly taken aback. "Please..."

"Not so gutsy when you're at the edge of a blade, aren't you thief? Cowardice is another vice I should kill you for."

"Please, no!" Isobel cried, adding a few sobs. "Please, I know I'm in the wrong here, I shouldn't have done anything... I'm just scared shitless for my baby!"

"Your baby?" The Breton arched a brow. "And where is this 'baby' now?" Isobel slowly lowered one of her hands and placed it on her abdomen. "...You're with child?" Isobel answered with a slow nod, making sure to keep her tears running. "And the father?"

"He's... he's gone." Isobel sniffled.

"And you're out here by yourself? Where are you going?"

"My father is at a camp we made up there." Isobel nodded her head towards the thick forest and the cliffs behind them. "We were on our way to Riften. Father knows the Priest of Mara there, and he's agreed to give us shelter at the temple until the baby arrives." Isobel could see the warrior thinking fiercely as some blood dribbled down her chin.

Isobel felt the cold steel removed from her neck, and before she could react, the woman pulled her up by her collar. Despite possessing the same build as Isobel, the Breton woman was indeed strong, and blood from the cut Isobel had given the woman's hand to begun to stain her Guild armour.

"Take me to your father. But if you try anything, _anything_ , and you're dead." Isobel's collar was released and the woman placed her battleaxe onto her back, securing it into some kind of sheath. Isobel placed a healing hand to her nose, watching as the woman pulled a rag out of the bag saddled to her horse and began to wipe her face.

"So Lady Valiant, got a real name?"

"Akira Vanius of the Companions." The woman was a Companion, no wonder she was able to swing around a battleaxe despite her size. "I assume you have a name as well?" Isobel couldn't help but cross her arms begrudgingly, not wanting to give out her real name but knowing Brynjolf would give it away if they were meeting him.

_'Damn. He's going to be so pissed...'_

"It's Isobel."

* * *

It was the distant sound of a twig snapping that started to pull Brynjolf out of unconsciousness, the grinding of footsteps on gravel that made his eyes open.

The first thing noticed was that Isobel was gone, the space beside him was empty, and immediately he felt a wave of panic. The experience with the strange roar the previous night had made him uneasy enough, and with his understudy missing his mind already started to fill to the brim with images of Isobel being swept away by reptilian claws.

"Da!"

Now he knew he had to be dreaming...and a bloody messed up one at that if Isobel's voice was calling him da...

"Da! Get up!" His head bolted outside and there stood Isobel, a bloody rag stuffed in her nose and a battleaxe pointed at her back by a fierce looking, steel-clad warrior. His jaw couldn't help but drop.

"Isobel, what in Oblivion is going on!?"

"Your daughter here tried to steal my horse." The woman answered. Brynjolf couldn't help but grit his teeth and put his head in his hands exasperatedly, beyond frustrated at yet another one of Isobel's poor choices. "She says your traveling to Riften, is this true?"

"Aye." Brynjolf grumbled as he exited the crevice and stood up.

"And why is that?"

 _'Shit...'_ He cursed, not wanting to play a game of immobile charades so early in the morning, and couldn't hide his irritation as he tried to read Isobel's face. She pointed her eyes down at her belly.

"She's pregnant."

"That doesn't answer my question." The woman retorted. Isobel mouthed something to him but he had no idea what it was. He had to be vague.

"We live there."

"That's not what your daughter said."

"What I meant was we are _going_ to live there."

"And what's the head Priest's name at the Temple your staying at?"

"Maramal." The warrior seemed a little more satisfied with his answers, and let Isobel go.

"The horse is tied up by the road, it's yours if you want it." She said coolly, and he saw Isobel perk up. "Just teach your daughter some manners. She's lucky I'm a merciful person. However," She took a few steps forward, nearly touching her armoured chest to Brynjolf's as she glared up at him. "I hear anything regarding a red-head and a short girl stealing shit again, I will find you. I'm a warrior of the Companions, and we tend to hear about these sorts of things."

With that she gave a count-down from ten for the two thieves to pack up their camp, then proceeded to guide them down to the road, using her axe like a shepard's staff as they held their hands behind their heads. Once she untied the horse from a roadside birch tree and took her belongings did she give one final warning.

" _Anything."_ She stressed as she placed the reins in Brynjolf's hands. "I hear anything of you hurting innocent people, and I'll find you. Who knows, an assignment might bring me to Riften, and I might stop by to see how the pregnancy is going." With a final threatening stare she turned and proceeded north, her pack slung over one shoulder as her battle axe gleamed in the sunlight.

"Thank you!" Isobel called. The woman ignored her, and as soon as Isobel turned her gaze from the warrior to Brynjolf he yanked the bloody rag out of her nose and slapped her with it.

"Are you out of your _bloody mind_?!" He snapped, showing Isobel the gory rag and hitting her cheek again with it, making her glare up at him as she wiped the blood off her face.

"I thought-"

"No you didn't! Robbing a horse from a Companion by yourself? You nearly got killed!"

"I just wanted to-"

"Stop it. I won't hear whatever bullshit reason you'll use to explain probably one of the _stupidest_ things I have ever seen. We may have to deal with her again if she comes to Riften, you know what kind of _shit_ that would put us in? Being sought out by Companions isn't something to take lightly! It's shit like this that makes me wonder how in Oblivion you became a senior member in Cyrodiil!"

"Hey! I'm-"

"You also told her I was your _father_?" Brynjolf said in disbelief as the horse started to whinny from the sudden raise of voices.

"I was pregnant! What, did you want me to imply you were the one who knocked me up?" He knew she had a point, he just didn't want yet another reminder that his youth was over. Defeated, he strapped his belongings to the saddle and mounted the horse, begrudgingly holding out his hand for Isobel as he pulled her up behind him.

He was finally getting a taste of what Gallus felt when he took Brynjolf under his wing, he was starting to comprehend just how much stress he must've put on his Guild Master. Brynjolf recalled the time Gallus took him to the College of Winterhold while he was visiting a friend of his, and Brynjolf had the bright idea of stealing a book on the Mythic Dawn from a heavily locked display case simply because it had a cool cover. The Orc librarian proceeded to break the teenager's nose and wrist before giving him a black eye, and the only reason Brynjolf managed to get away was he was still skinny enough to climb the bookshelves. The professors and scholars were furious enough that someone was trying to steal from them, the topic of the book only raised their ire...no wonder Gallus nearly threw him out of the Guild for that.

...But as he fell Isobel's arms around wrap around him he also understood why Gallus couldn't throw away someone he cared about...

"You should've seen the look on your face when you first woke up." Isobel said as he put the horse into motion. "You looked like a scared little thirteen-year-old girl who just got her first moonblood."

Damn it, that was it. Brynjolf tried with all his strength to suppress his laughter, but a muffled snort still escaped him.

"Hah hah, you laughed! I'm off the hook.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you're wondering who Akira Vanius was, she's actually a character in BlueSpartan107's story Skyrim: Destiny of the Dragonborn (on fanfiction.net). You'll actually find Isobel messing around in his story too, becoming his Errick Entius' sidekick, although BlueSpartan107 did write her so I can't take credit for her characterization in his story.   
> Also sorry for the long absence! I've been stupid busy with university and rewriting a ton of chapters in this story, I didn't want to update here until those rewrites were all done. Remember that almost 60 chapters of Tale of a Nightingale is on fanfiction, the latest one was just uploaded today!  
> Thanks so much for reading!!


	21. Back in Riften

10th of Sun's Dusk

"I swear I've seen this handwritin' before." Delvin grumbled while he and Brynjolf sat at his table in the Ragged Flagon. It was the day after Brynjolf and Isobel had returned to Riften, but the pair were still utterly exhausted. As soon as they had arrived they weren't even given time to stretch their stiff legs before having to hold an emergency meeting regarding what they had discovered at Honningbrew. Then they had to go directly to visit Maven at her manor, who was not the least bit pleased with the Guild's new enemy.

"Don't strain too hard, Delv." Brynjolf said with a large yawn. "Old brains aren't that flexible." Delvin had been pouring over the Goldenglow Bill of Sale and the Honningbrew promissory note since their return, trying desperately to solve the mystery of the person behind the enigmatic symbol.

"Trust me, I've been cursin' this old brain of mine all day. I know I've dealt with this writin' before, and Gujul-Lei sounds bloody familiar." Delvin rubbed his bald head agitatedly before staring at something beyond Brynjolf. Brynjolf turned to see Isobel crawling up Dirge's back, vigilant as ever at his post and not paying any attention to the small person climbing him like a tree. Delvin started chuckling, and Brynjolf couldn't help by smile as Isobel finally managed to sit atop Dirge's shoulders and rest her arms on his head.

"I've never seen him tolerant someone like that." Brynjolf muttered quietly, remembering what Thrynn had said about Isobel healing Dirge after he stood up to Maul.

"Aye, that's for sure."

"Delvin." Brynjolf spoke suddenly and leaned on the table. "How come you sent me to Battle-Born when he specifically asked for Isobel?"

"I thought she had enough on her plate as it was and ya needed to get out of the city." He said simply, the corners of his mouth slightly turned upward.

Before Brynjolf could argue he was distracted by the enthusiastic murmur of Isobel chatting with Dirge. His ears strained to try and pick up any of her inaudible words, but the sounds of Delvin rustling papers and the clanging pots of Vekel preparing dinner drowned out any chance of him hearing any of their conversation.

"Whatcha thinkin' bout, boy?" Delvin asked with another grin. "Ya seem to be in deep thought."

"I think I'm going to spend some time upstairs for a bit." Brynjolf sighed and got up. "That journey really sparked my appetite for fresh air."

"Oh sure, sure." Delvin waved him away as he turned back to his papers. Brynjolf made to give Isobel a quick, casual smile as he passed her and Dirge on the way through the Flagon, inciting a beaming smile from the Breton and a stern nod from the bodyguard. It wasn't until Brynjolf was several steps away did he hear Isobel's nattering.

"...There it was, a gleaming axe right on my neck, glaring at my face. The bitch was ready to decapitate me, but I knew her type. I started up the waterworks and told her I was pregnant. And just like that, ever so slightly, she softened. Like cheese left out in the sun..."

 _'What a child.'_ Brynjolf chuckled to himself.

* * *

Isobel had a hard time trying to finish her story when Brynjolf had taken her concentration out of the Flagon with him, and gave Dirge a severely abridged version of the following events before promptly sliding off his shoulders.

"So yeah, that's why my nose is still sore. I'm gonna go hassle Delvin for a bit. Call Brynjolf 'Da' if he comes back in here, promise?" She said hastily as the bodyguard's haggard mouth failed to hide a smirk. With a brief glance back at the Flagon door Isobel moved towards the tavern and Delvin's table.

"Hey, Delv. Any luck?" She asked as she leaned over his shoulder, pretending to be interested in the papers she had read several times already.

"Nay." Delvin mumbled. "I'm thinkin' I'm gonna have to dig out some old documents, read up on previous contacts to the Guild and whatnot." Isobel glanced at the Flagon door again.

"Where did Brynjolf go?"

Delvin smiled knowingly at her question.

"Oh, y'know. Probably up and 'round the market. Why?"

"Just wondering." Isobel shrugged and gave Delvin a couple pats on the shoulder. "I'm uh... going to go train for a bit, call me if you need any help."

"Will do, Issy."

As soon as she entered the cistern Isobel sped over to the secret passage leading up to the surface. This was the perfect opportunity to try and see if Brynjolf would still talk to her after she tested his patience so well over their journey. The rest of the trip had gone smoothly enough, she was already making him laugh a lot more easily and both were able to talk for hours. She was just still hung up on trying to figure out Brynjolf's aloof behavior during their rabbit meal on that first night...

Snow was still floating lazily down from the grey skies as it had for the past few days, blanketing the town in a thin layer of fluff. Every chimney plumed with smoke from fires constantly stoked to keep the cold at bay. Isobel walked along the alleys and through the marketplace, but Brynjolf was no where to be seen and her nose and ears were starting to go numb from the cold.

She grew more and more frustrated until she finally turned down a street walled by the Honorhall courtyard. There he was, fiery hair blazing against the stark white snow, standing in the middle of the desolate street in front of the stone wall of the orphanage. Isobel wondered what he was doing, tilting her head slightly, until she saw a ratty, leather ball fly over the iron barbs above the courtyard wall and land into Brynjolf's outstretched hands. With a gentle motion he tossed it back to the other side.

 _'Oh Gods, he's playing catch with orphans.'_ Isobel thought as she covered her smile with the back of her hand. What was it about manly men playing with children that was _so_ attractive even to women who didn't want kids? She continued watching the ball fly back and forth over the stone wall, children's shouting heard even where she was standing.

Slowly she approached towards Brynjolf, not wanting to disrupt his play but wanting a closer view. She was completely caught off guard when Brynjolf made to throw the ball over the courtyard wall and instead whipped it in her direction, causing her to catch the ball on reflex but still be startled.

"Come to join, lass?" Steam blew from Brynjolf's mouth as he laughed.

"Only if you'll let me."

"Of course." He grinned as Isobel threw the ball up and over to the orphans, enticing her to smile as well.

"So... do you do this often? Play with the orphans?" Isobel asked.

"Sometimes, not often enough though." Brynjolf sighed. "You want me to introduce you?" Isobel hesitated as Brynjolf gestured her towards him. "C'mon, lass. They don't bite." He coaxed and Isobel finally approached. She was taken by surprise when she felt his large hands grab her hips and hoist her up, her stomach rioting at his touch as she held onto the iron barbs and looked over the wall. There stood four children, all around ages seven to eleven and all gazing up at her curiously.

"Cute, aren't they?" Brynjolf said as he pulled himself up by Isobel's side.

"Did you just say _cute_?" Isobel laughed under her breath, finding his choice of word adorable. Brynjolf looked somewhat embarrassed as he cleared his throat.

"These here are Runa, Hroar, Samuel and Francois." Brynjolf gestured to each child with his head. "Children, this is Isobel." They all looked at her, her heart going out to such younglings who were confined to a tiny, barren yard.

 _'And no family...'_ She thought sadly. She would've ended up in a place like this had her Guild not taken her in, maybe even this specific orphanage had she remained in Skyrim after the bandit attack. Another pained thought singed her head when she remembered her baby brother would've been around their age had he not been axed at their mother's breast.

"Is she one of your friends?" Runa asked as she held the ball under her arm. There was a bruise on her cheek and her brown eyes had dark circles under them.

"Uh... aye, she's my friend." Brynjolf flustered, making Isobel beam.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Samuel questioned. This time both Brynjolf and Isobel turned red.

"No laddie, she's not." He answered sternly.

"Does she do all the cool stuff you do?" Hroar asked with sparkling eyes. "Uncle Brynjolf says he's going to teach me a bunch of tricks when I'm older!"

" _Uncle_ Brynjolf?!" Isobel squeaked, Brynjolf looked humiliated yet again.

"Look, Isobel and I gotta go now." Brynjolf spoke quickly as the orphans started to protest. "Don't you let Mercer catch you whining like that or you'll never get in the Guild!" Brynjolf scolded and they immediately fell silent.

"They're really sweet." Isobel said as they dropped to the dirty alley road, following Brynjolf's lead. From the looks of it he was heading back to the cistern.

"Aye, poor little bastards." Brynjolf sighed. Isobel wouldn't have had the slightest idea that Brynjolf had this softness to him, this was the same man who stood on her throat for an amethyst and robbed a naive woman after deflowering her. "Did you know Delvin grew up there?"

"No, I didn't."

"Mhm, back when Grelod was called The Kind because she actually was. Now she's such a crusty old crone her nickname simply stuck to her as a joke. It was probably Delvin that drove her over the edge." Brynjolf laughed, gaining a few chuckles from Isobel.

"Where were you raised?" The question had slipped out before she could catch herself, hoping she wasn't intruding Brynjolf's invisible boundaries.

"I'm from Falkreath, lived right next to the graveyard." He answered, and to Isobel's amazement he didn't sound defensive. "Where are you from?"

"The Imperial City."

"You know what I mean, lass." Brynjolf smiled. "Where were you born? Where were your family from?"

"My family were nomads, we weren't from anywhere... We were from everywhere." They were barely even halfway to the mausoleum but Isobel felt a sudden desperation to keep Brynjolf above ground. She felt unable to really talk to him in the cistern or Ragged Flagon, and she didn't want to revert to their usual rigid and stiflingly professional interaction the moment they descended the wood ladder.

"Do you want to go for a walk by the lake?" ISobel blurted, the words slurring into each other like swamp water. She immediately felt stupid, they had already spent thirteen days traveling together, they were still tired and the weather was even more frigid outside Riften's walls. Brynjolf merely slowed his step, a faint delay in his answer.

"Aye."

* * *

25th of Sun's Dusk

Thrynn entered the cistern that evening with a heavy sigh. It had been a long, cold journey, and a run in with a couple of Forsworn had left him with a deep, poorly stitched gash on his left arm, his bandages were still bloody. He was exhausted, but he had something he wanted to give Isobel. His spirit was somewhat crushed as he heard her hysteric voice over Vipir's laughter.

"And so... so she pulls off my trousers... and then she sees my... and _freaks out_!" Isobel was having trouble getting the words out of her cackling mouth as Vipir roared beside her. Thrynn used to feel somewhat taken aback at Isobel's dirty tale-tellings, but the more he overheard the more he couldn't help but think her sexuality reflected the personality he loved so much about her. The mischievous, playful side of her with a touch of grit. He just wished she'd tell stories to him and not exclusively Vipir... He probably knew a lot more about her than any of the other men.

"It was one of the best moments of my life... it was like... it was like I had invented a completely new way to hurt somebody's feelings."

"She honestly believed you were a man?!" Vipir guffawed.

"If you ever saw me with a fake moustache you would too!" Isobel shouted defensively. "I've never been able to grow an ass and my tits are smaller than the average male's pecs."

"They're not that small!" Vipir retorted.

"Oh? I supposed you've made enough good observations to back that thesis up?" Isobel jested. Thrynn turned to her bed just in time to see Vipir bite his lip and wiggle his eyebrows... a very wrinkled Vipir...

"What are you doing?" Thrynn asked. Isobel turned and lit up at his sight.

"Thrynn! Thank gods you came back all right!" She got up and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, a hug which Thrynn was quick to return with a pained grimace. "Wait, what happened to your arm?"

"Ran into a couple Forsworn halfway between Markarth and Rorikstead." Thrynn answered as the wrinkled Vipir whistled.

"Shit, let me have a look at it." Isobel made to remove his bandages but Thrynn stopped her. He couldn't help but think the scrap with the Reach savages was worth it to see Isobel fret over his wound, and tried to hide his smile.

"No worries Issy, I've had worse. What I want to know is what you're doing to the Fleet."

"I'm turning him into an old man." Isobel smirked as she removed herself from his grasp and sat on her bed, patting the space beside her for Thrynn. Apparently she was using some sort of brown paint and a very fine brush to accentuate the natural lines on Vipir's face, aging him by decades.

"Scrunch your forehead again." She instructed and Vipir obliged, Isobel softly tracing his brow lines with her brush. "I'll heal you later tonight Thrynn, I don't care how 'minor' your cut is. I just want to finish Vipir before one of the seniors walk in."

"I'm glad you're here in one piece. A lot of stuff's been going on, have you heard about our new enemy?" Vipir asked and looked at Thrynn intensely, his face somewhat comical with his eyebrows raised halfway up to his hairline, Isobel painting away.

"No, is someone trying to hurt us?" Thrynn dropped his heavy bag and sat beside Isobel on the edge of her bed.

"Her and Brynjolf came back from a job in Whiterun with a promissory note from Honningbrew Meadery with the same symbol as the one from Goldenglow." Vipir explained. "Honningbrew was having shit loads of coin raining on them so they could compete with Maven."

"So? What does that have to do with the Guild?" Thrynn grumbled.

"It means someone's trying to weaken us by weakening Maven." Isobel spoke up. "Delvin's been pouring over books trying to find any clue as to who they are, but so far nothing's come up."

"You went on a job with Brynjolf?" Thrynn asked suspiciously, referring to Vipir's earlier comment.

"Yes." Isobel said sternly. "And it went _well_."

"Isobel's in love with him, gave him massages and everything. Now she spends all her time with him, going for walks and having snowball fights-" Vipir was interrupted by a sharp flick of Isobel's paint brush handle on his nose. Thrynn's twinge of jealously immediately boiled into a bubbling envy. Of course Brynjolf would charm the girl, like he has every other woman to walk in and out the Guild, and Thrynn didn't want to give him the satisfaction of adding Isobel to his list of conquests, he felt sick at the mere idea of it.

"Don't listen to him, Thrynn." Isobel said, pulling Thrynn out of his thoughts. "This is coming from the same mouth that said I was in love with Gray Fox." Somehow Thrynn felt like Vipir was telling the truth this time.

"Here. I got you something." Thrynn said, trying not to sound too disgruntled as he dug through his pack and pulled out a wooden flute. "You said you could outplay any bard, prove it." His angst soon turned into satisfaction as Isobel's eyes grew wide and she dropped her brush.

"This is good quality." She muttered as she took it from his hands.

"Nicked it straight from the store." Thrynn smirked. Isobel stood up from her bed, timidly blowing out some small, discreet scales before going full board. A fast jig emitted from her lips, her fingers dancing on the holes as Isobel's eyes steadily grew brighter. Thrynn was impressed, she did play extremely well, and he found his foot unconsciously tapping.

Niruin was the only other person in the room, resting on his bed as his pointed ears twitched to Isobel's twittering melody. She suddenly stopped.

"It's no fun making music if everyone's just going to sit there!" Isobel shouted, genuinely pissed off. Thrynn scoffed. As if he was going to move, the closest he'd ever got to dancing was when one of his old comrades set his boots on fire.

Isobel blew into her flute again, this time stamping her feet to the rhythm as another fast jig rang throughout the cistern. Vipir got up, jerking his legs around as he tried to clap to the music, his body still having a hard time moving from his healing chest and his face aged and concentrating fiercely. Niruin screamed with laughter at his bed, slamming his book down onto his lap as he watched Vipir's spectacle. With that Vipir skipped over to him and pulled Niruin by the arms.

"What are you doing, Vipir!?" Niruin bellowed. "Are you fucking drunk?!"

"Whether it be herring or it be kipper,

You may drink like a fish but a fish drink like Vipir!

But don't bar hop with Niruin,

None are square as he and Thrynn!"

Isobel sang loudly as she stomped on Thrynn's booted toes in an attempt to get him up and moving. Vipir was having more luck, dragging the Bosmer as he spun the poor elf in circles.

Thrynn was just starting to relax, the cheerful music starting to work its magic, a small smile perching on his lips as he watched Isobel's nimble fingers and admired her beaming profile. His ease was cut sort however as he heard the cistern door open and looked to see Brynjolf emerge with a curious, playful frown. He felt he body harden as he saw Isobel perk up at Brynjolf's presence.

"Here comes Brynjolf, old as the hills,

The Bedroom Bandit as classy as Bravil!"

What did she mean? Bedroom Bandit? Where they already having inside jokes? Thrynn fumed, watching Isobel blow into her flute as she nudged and kicked the red-head, only to have him playfully stomp back with a grin as she dodged his feet, her smile ruining a few notes.

"Stop it, lass." Brynjolf laughed as he tried to push the persistent bard away. Thrynn flinched at the petname.

"SHUT UP!" Mercer screamed. The group stared at him as the last of the jig's echoes fell silent, Brynjolf subtly shuffling further away from Isobel. Thrynn hadn't even noticed the Guild Master was still at his desk. "I am trying to work! In case you haven't realized we're in some deep shit!" He turned his harsh glare to Isobel, the flute still posed in her mouth, and after a few beats looked back at his papers.

"Maybe we could go to the Flagon." Vipir whispered. "He can't hear it from there, and I want to try and get Dirge dancing."

"Only if you want a few missing teeth, lad." Brynjolf chuckled, holding Vipir's chin and admiring his wrinkles. All three of the men looked confused at Brynjolf's sudden friendliness, although Isobel was completely unfazed. Thrynn scowled.

"Issy, do you think you can heal my arm soon." He placed his hand on Isobel's hip, making sure Brynjolf saw their closeness. "It's getting pretty damn painful."

"Uh... okay." Isobel frowned up at him, her fingers moving up and down her flute in a silent tune. "Where do you want to do it?"

"Anywhere you like, Issy." Thrynn smiled and shot Brynjolf a cold stare, a stare the senior member returned.


	22. Nowhere to Hide

2nd of Evening Star

Another week passed, thieves came and went on jobs. However, Brynjolf stayed and helped Delvin sift through old Guild documents to find any clues as to who their enigmatic enemy could be. Isobel had also spent her time within Riften's walls, doing a few simple jobs for Maven Black-Briar herself, helping Vipir with his ever improving chest, and continuing to teach Illusion spells to Etienne.

"Here. I snagged something for you when I was in Dawnstar." Etienne pulled something out of his backpack as he and Isobel loitered in the training room. He handed her a purple tome, the rune symbolizing Illusion on its front cover.

"Invisibility!?" She gasped as she skimmed its contents. "I've been trying for years to learn this, thank you so much Etienne!"

"It's the least I could give, Issy. Your lessons saved my ass out there. I came across a snow bear just as I was entering The Pale and I managed to cast Calm on it."

"A Calm spell... on a _snow bear_? Etienne, you couldn't even soothe a skeever during our last session..." Isobel stared, but Etienne just smiled bashfully and shrugged. "That's incredible, I'm so proud! What did you think off?"

"My mom's venison stew." Etienne chuckled, Isobel laughed with him as she pulled him into a tight hug. After they broke apart Isobel sat on the training room floor and opened the tome.

"Now, the reason why Invisibility is so hard is because it's quite different than any other Illusion spell. Instead of envisioning memories to invoke emotions you have to try to forget you have a physical form... well, that's how my instructor Merandil always described it, I still don't really understand. This is as far as I've gotten." Etienne watched as he sat across from her. Isobel raised her right palm, a small purple flare ignited and was gone in a millisecond as her arm turned translucent.

"That's still pretty impressive." Etienne admired Isobel's see-through limb.

"It's so draining though." Isobel panted, and with a ragged exhale her arm returned to its natural state. "And requires so much focus... But by Sanguine's sake it's useful. Can you imagine how easy it would be stealing something if you were _literally_ invisible?"

"No kidding. I thought-"

"Oi, Etienne." The pair looked up to see Delvin stroll their way and kneel down next to them. "Well well, what have ya got here?"

"An Invisibility tome." Isobel grinned, showing Delvin the purple cover.

"Can either of ya use it?" Delvin inquired with an arched brow.

"Well... no. But that's why we have the book."

"Look at us, three Bretons sittin' in a circle talkin' bout magic spells we can't do." Delvin chuckled. "Ya put that book on the shelf with the others when you're done, don't be like Etienne and leave books and tomes all over the ruddy place." He nudged Etienne with his elbow. "I've gotta job for ya boy, got a strongbox with your name on it."

"Where at?"

"You leave for Dawnstar tomorrow morning."

"I was _just_ there!" Etienne protested loudly as Delvin smirked.

"Then you'll know your way 'round." He said before turning to Isobel. "I'll find somethin' in another city for ya soon, Issy. Don't think you're gonna be trapped in this place like before, you'll be busier than a Goldenglow bee once I find some work for ya." And with a smile he and Etienne walked off to discuss their job's details, Etienne waving one final goodbye as Isobel continued to sit on the stone floor, preparing herself for some more practice.

* * *

Brynjolf was making his way to the training room, Delvin was searching high and low for anymore scripts or documents and he had just sent Brynjolf to search the training room of all places for any useful material. He had sharply turned the corner only to retreat a few steps, Isobel was sprawled out dead center of the room, a purple book resting on her face. Brynjolf eased back into the shadows, preferring to watch her than look for something he knew would not in the training area.

She simply laid there for a while, the open tome covering her features as she stretched her legs and arms. As uneventful as her actions were, Brynjolf kept his place, this was the first time he had seen her by herself, and he was curious on how she coexisted with solitude.

They had been spending a lot more time together since they returned from Whiterun, usually sharing meals or going for walks and goofing around, and even though Brynjolf deeply enjoyed them there was a cloud of uneasiness that hung over him. At first he felt foolish, seniors never spent much time with juniors, because along with Isobel came several others and soon Vipir, Etienne, Cynric and Rune were added to his usual table at dinner. But slowly he started to relax, Isobel always sat beside him and included him in their conversations, and Brynjolf found himself starting to create bonds with the younger boys. It was a long time since he ate at a table filled with laughing and drinking, longer still since he made friends.

He continued watching the closest thing to an ally he had, laying with a book on her face in the training room they had spent their first few weeks battling in, and already he felt the ghosts of their aggression within the room fading. That he no longer felt any bitterness towards the space.

She took him somewhat by surprise when she suddenly grabbed the tome and arced her back upwards, her legs gracefully swinging up and over her body and silently landing on the ground. One of her acrobatic tricks without a doubt. Still holding onto her book Isobel stood upright only to start violently when she saw Brynjolf in threshold.

"Gods, Bryn! You scared the tits off me!" Isobel scolded loudly.

"That was very impressive lass, that... flip?" Brynjolf managed to spit the words out, trying to hide the fact that he had been watching her. "Something I don't imagine a large, hardy Nord could pull off."

"Nah, it's not that hard. I could teach you if you like." Isobel shrugged... before bursting into laughter. Brynjolf couldn't help but release a few chuckles, her laugh was so contagious. "I'm so sorry... just the image on you doing cartwheels-" She couldn't finish her sentence as she doubled over.

Brynjolf knew Delvin would notice if he took too long on his search, but he was busy with Etienne and everyone else was getting ready for supper, so he thought it'd be harmless to spend a _small_ amount of time with Isobel until they left for the Flagon to eat.

He stepped forward, not exactly sure what he had in mind until Isobel stopped her cackling and whipped out her dagger, the steel scraping with its sheathe with a echoing _'shhing.'_

"Viper!" Isobel boomed theatrically. "You come here to my home... to _my_ sanctuary... threatening my life as words of venom drip from your forked tongue!" Brynjolf brandished his own dagger and matched her stance. "Surrender now, else I shall wash my honor clean in your blood!"

"The day the Throat of the World is nothing but dust is the day I will grant you victory." He retorted with a grin, feeling like a lad again as Isobel lunged at him.

"Then suffer the consequences, wyrm!" She cried as they entered the same array of stabs and blocks they had engaged in during their harsh training sessions, minus the brutality. Now it was all light-hearted, and Brynjolf was starting to feel Isobel's free spirit rub off on him.

They made full use of their talents even in their play, using skillful moves and complicated combinations against the other as they dueled. Isobel would go so far as to smugly show off some of her elaborate acrobatics, and Brynjolf would resort to using his Nord strength to pull her in choke holds and shoulder locks that she had to fight and squirm to get out of, both of them laughing like children. Brynjolf was somewhat surprised when he made a stab only to have Isobel trap his dagger in her armpit, releasing a pained gasp as she fell to her knees.

"Damn you!" She wheezed, the dagger still under her arm. "To kill a retired knight...in their own home..." She wheezed and collapsed onto her back, Brynjolf kneeling over her and trying to stay in character. "The gods know what you have done...just...just tell my son I...I...!" And with a dramatic cough she fell limp and silent.

"As fearless in death as she was in life." Brynjolf solemnly closed her eyes and took his dagger. "May her soul purge itself in the Void."

He waited, expecting Isobel to get up, to laugh and hit him, something. But she just laid there, black hair fanning around her face with her mouth slightly agape.

"C'mon lass. I'm going to go get some supper, you can come with." He shook her shoulder to no avail. "Isobel, c'mon!"

He sighed exasperatedly, he knew she was playing but he couldn't just walk away from her "lifeless" body, it didn't feel right. His annoyance was short lived as Isobel suddenly sprang up and bowled him over, pinning him to the stone floor.

"Weren't expecting that were ..." But she trailed off, her smiling fading. He felt it too.

Here she was, straddling him on the cold floor with her hands firmly planted on his shoulders, their faces locked onto each others in silent terror as they panted heavily from their fighting. They were close... _really_ close...

Brynjolf was frozen, his mind was screaming at him to push her off but he made no such movement, she seemed to be in the same predicament as her stressed face looked down on him.

She was so striking at this angle, with her wispy hair fringing her face and her wide, blue eyes above him like two small skies. Brynjolf felt his heart start to beat considerably faster, its heat spreading across and under his skin.

Brynjolf had never felt so enraptured or so panicked at a woman's touch before, let alone simultaneously. And the longer they stayed in that position the more his rational mind seemed to cloud over and become numb.

And soon he found his hands caressing Isobel's thighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I hate cliff hangers. Psych. I love them. Not sorry. :P


	23. Fuck the Pain Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Sexual explicit scene ahead.

Isobel stared at Brynjolf below her. She knew her face was just as taut and alarmed as his was. Her inner dialogue was cursing as hard as it ever had. To leave. To get up. To laugh and tease him and pretend nothing ever happened.

But she couldn't.

Blood was racing its course through her faster than a tornado, making her brain feel hazy in its wind and her lungs not getting enough air, it made her feel sick. It only got worse when she felt Brynjolf's large hands on her thighs, it triggered a flush of fever across her skin yet made her shiver as if she was cold.

This was her overstudy, her boss, over twenty-years her senior and he was making someone like _her_ feel as vulnerable and clueless as a virgin. She felt so _pathetic_ , and when his fingers slowly trailed up and held her hips she had to stifle a whimper lest she sacrifice all her pride. Simply feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath her was almost pushing her over the edge.

Isobel could see Brynjolf's eyes starting to smoulder as they looked at her, making her feel even more exposed and scared, and as by some cruel magic her lips slowly lowered down without her control. When the tips of their noses were touching she fiercely crushed her lips to his, closing her eyes tightly as if to pretend what they were doing wasn't really happening.

Brynjolf didn't need any coaxing, he was reciprocating the kiss before he moved his arm and hugged the small of her back into him, his other hand cupping the base of her neck as she cradled his head in her forearms. Isobel tilted her head to mold their mouths closer together, and as they began to knead each other's lips the kiss turned more and more hungry, evolving into something utterly desperate as they consumed each other. It was when Brynjolf broke away and started to trace rough, frenzied kisses along her jaw did Isobel feel like they had to stop otherwise the strange swelling sensation building up in her chest would surely explode. She wasn't used to this, whatever this was, and all she was able to do was clutch onto him as he crushed his lips to the contours of her neck. Brynjolf was both the lifeline and the storm.

Brynjolf taking Isobel by the mouth again caused the softest of whines to penetrate their silence. Apparently Brynjolf heard it, for it was as if that small sound woke him from some sort of reverie, causing him to precariously throw her off and shuffle away from her as if she was contagiously ill. Isobel was still too drunk to react to his rejection right away, taking a few moments to catch her breath.

"Isobel... lass... I... we can't..." Brynjolf panted. "We can't happen."

"Why?" Isobel slurred, placing a hand on his knee which he promptly pushed it off. That seemed to bring her back to reality. "Why can't this happen?" She repeated angrily.

"Just... let's just forget this ever happened... okay, lass?" Brynjolf flustered as he got to his feet. Isobel sprang up and blocked him from the exiting the room, glaring up at him fiercely.

"I don't want to forget."

Brynjolf scoffed, it was apparent he was getting upset.

"I'm too old-"

"As if Ysolda was _so_ much more older than me!"

"She was a one night stand-"

"Why can't I be a one night stand?!" Isobel pleaded.

"Because you're better than that!"

"No, I'm not! I had one night stands all the time!"

"Isobel, please!" Brynjolf snapped. He shifted tensely, scowling at the floor, and Isobel could see the anger and regret in his eyes even through his downcast lashes. Her whole body seemed to deflate as she made to rest her head on his chest.

"Please, Brynjolf..." She couldn't believe she was begging, that she was one step above getting down to her knees. She didn't want whatever that swelling feeling was to be so fleeting, she wanted to linger on it, try to understand it and maybe identify it. Ever so delicately Brynjolf grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back.

"Listen to me, lass. Don't speak. _Listen_." He looked into her eyes. "I'm old enough to be your father, I'm _too old_. Understand?" Isobel shook her head defiantly before he continued. "If Mercer found out that his right hand man, his most trusted Second in Command, was involved with someone who threatened him, it would put you in danger. And he _would_ find out, I wouldn't be surprised if he's watching us now." Isobel's eyes darted the corner of the room, half expecting Mercer to be there watching them with his icy gaze.

"And, most importantly." Brynjolf said sadly. "You'll be leaving..."

That hit Isobel hard. She knew he was right, even if she got the letter bidding her safe return to Cyrodiil in that moment she would start packing her bags. Despite the friends she made in Skyrim, they could never replace the family she had in the Imperial City.

"You're a... a good man... y'know..." Isobel expressed awkwardly. "I, uhm... I hope this doesn't make things weird between us..."

"Aye." Brynjolf nodded.

Isobel knew they were close to leaving, the conversation was wrapping up, and as Brynjolf made to pass her she couldn't fight the impulse to hug him. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, her hands clenching the black leather of his armour. She felt so juvenile and wished she could stop embarrassing herself, but she still breathed in as much of his scent as she could, knowing it could be her very last chance. Brynjolf patted her back lightly before unlatching himself.

"I'm going to the Flagon for supper..." His voice trembled before steadying itself. "You're still welcome to join..."

"Yeah, I'll be there just... I just want to stretch a little longer..."

"Very well, I'll see you soon." And with that Brynjolf briskly left, leaving Isobel standing in the middle of the training room with nothing but a lump in her throat and a profound sense of sadness. She was beyond confused at what just happened, let alone how to deal with it, and she didn't move for what seemed like forever until she heard her name.

"Issy! Get your bony ass out here! Soup's on in the Flagon!"

Isobel took another moment before she walked out of the training room, her arms crossed and holding herself as she made her way through the empty cistern. Nobody ate in the cistern anymore, Thrynn was the last one who caved in and moved to the tavern.

It was when she heard Cynric's unmistakable guffawing beyond the mead cabinet doors did Isobel realize how shaken up she truly was, her teeth were clenched without her noticing and her shoulders were hunched almost to her ears. Inhaling deeply, she composed herself as if she was doing an undercover mission, consciously unfurrowing her brow and softening her expression. It was much harder than it should've been.

_'...crunch time, Issy...'_

She opened the cabinet door to the smell and sights of warm food, the boys had pushed a few tables together to form one long, rowdy gathering where mead was spilled more than drank. Her optimism of getting through the meal was even more enhanced when she realized Brynjolf was sitting with Vex at Delvin's cluttered table and not with the juniors.

"Hey!" Niruin called as he sat on the back of his chair, towering over everyone as he threw a warm bun at Isobel. "About time you got here! Sit down already!"

"I could say the same for you, tree hugger." Isobel grinned as she caught the airborne food and went to take a seat. She hadn't even taken her first bite when Rune passed her a bowl and a bottle of mead, and as she ladled herself a few scoops of the steaming vegetable soup she noticed a sting of whisker burn on her chin. She gently touched the scrape, aching to look back its inflictor before promptly pulling her hood up, blocking her line of vision to straight ahead.

Unfortunately, this meant singling out Thrynn as he sat directly across from her, who took a moment to maintain deliberate eye contact before going back to eating his soup.

It was now blatantly obvious the man was becoming territorial over her, the way he watched and stalked her, always trying to butt into conversations she was having with other people and making unnecessary physical contact. Dealing with and confronting men of his behavior wasn't something Isobel was unused to, albeit she did usually crush any unwanted advances before they escalated into full on pursuit. She had learned the hard way long ago that sleeping with someone who wanted more than she wanted to give them was a bad mistake, and she had a feeling Thrynn didn't just want a casual screw.

Isobel made a mental promise that once she felt relatively stable again she _had_ to confront Thrynn and shut down whatever he had conjured up in his head.

"Hey! Stop wasting the food, boy!" Vekel hollered from behind the bar at Cynric, who was loading up his slingshot with any soup morsel large enough to become an adequate source of ammo. Isobel felt a nudge under the table that made her look back up at Thrynn.

"You okay? Rune and I heard dueling in the training room and then a fight, are you and Brynjolf training again?"

Isobel's chest hardened but she was still able to chuckle.

"No, we were just messing around and play fighting. It wasn't anything serious." She smiled, Rune seemed to buy her half-lie but Thrynn remained skeptical.

"That's good, he's definitely lightened up since you've been spending more time with him." Rune spoke earnestly. "I wish I made more of an effort to get to know him sooner, he's a good man. Did you know he knew the previous Guild Master before he was murdered? I didn't realize he had been here that long."

Isobel remembered how Brynjolf spoke about Gallus during their journey from Whiterun, and a wave of ache washed over her. And as if all her senses were biased when it came to experiencing the Nord, her ears picked up on his deep voice underneath the banter and noise of her table.

However, a shriller, more distressed tone caused her to actually turn around, along with most of the table.

"We _can't_ afford the bail Delv, it's _too_ expensive." Vex was snarling at the disheartened Breton. "If she's half as good as you say she is then breaking out shouldn't be an issue for her."

"Damn..." Devlin lowered her head into his hands. "Maybe we could-"

"We don't even need her here, it's not like she'd be bringing in any coin if we broke her out. There's no jobs anymore, you know that better than anyone!" Vex spat as Isobel grimaced in disgust. It was easy to piece their conversation together, Sapphire had gotten arrested somewhere, and from the looks of it no one was going to back her up.

Isobel leaned over the back of her chair and was about to open her mouth when she unintentionally caught Brynjolf's eye, the two of them sharing a millisecond of gut churning eye contact before she spun back around, her stomach clenching even more when she realized Thrynn had noticed her anxiety. He simply eyed her knowingly.

She felt something inside her snap quite unexpectedly, it snapped the same way Cynric's slingshot did when it fired a piece of diced potato at a distracted Vipir's mead, causing it to spill and foam. Isobel realized then if what she was feeling wasn't a time to push herself off the wagon she didn't know what was, her inner angst finally spilling up and over and causing her to slam down her spoon, pick up her mead and chug.

"Isobel...?" Rune asked, but Isobel kept drinking, fearlessly glaring at Thrynn's confused expression from over her bottle until it was empty. She didn't hear Vekel gripe about wishing the juniors stayed in the cistern as he cleaned their mess, she didn't listen to the rest of Vex's callous ranting, all conversation around her became a formless mist. Isobel had moved onto taking a couple large bites of her bun when she realized Thrynn was speaking to her.

"Isobel, what in Oblivion is going on?" He hissed. "Why are you so upset?"

"Sapphire's been arrested..." Isobel answered after she swallowed. "Why aren't we helping her...?"

"Can't afford the bail and can't afford the risk of sending more in after her." Rune shrugged begrudgingly. "As much as I can't stand the woman it is awful that we've sunk so low we can't break someone out of a low-security prison. She's in Falkreath for shit's sake, that jailhouse has as many guards as we do."

"It's a damn shame." Vipir leaned on his elbows with a sigh. "I had _just_ broken through that icy shell of hers, she wanted me to bed her before she left but with my chest still in bad shape I had to say no." The boys all groaned, Etienne even flicking some soup in Vipir's direction as he swore his honesty. Slowly Isobel perked.

Vipir knew what she would be asking for, knew the meaning of "no strings attached" and "one time deal," not likely to become attached or "in love" afterwards. He knew the most about her and her sexuality more than any soul in Skyrim, and she knew herself that she wouldn't be jerking him around or playing him since he shared her avoidance of intimacy... the only question was whether or not he would keep from blabbing.

Isobel needed _something_ though, something to calm her down, and nothing was more cathartic for her than an orgasm and some booze. She grew even more impatient as the meal went on, trying in vain to overpower the sounds of Brynjolf behind her with the taste of mead as she heard him say something about going to Riftweald Manor to search for more documents.

As the table started to disperse, Isobel quickly got up and leaned over Vipir's shoulder.

"Come for a walk with me." She whispered before Thrynn could find a way to intervene.

"Sure, should we get Rune? I've been perfecting my singing voice for him-"

"No. Just us. I have a favour to ask you."

Vipir caught the urgency in her tone and met her pace out the Flagon and into the Ratways, Isobel checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was following them only to see Thrynn looking firmly in their direction.

"Shit." She cursed under her breath as her and Vipir exited the Flagon. "Thrynn saw us."

"That's a bad thing?" Vipir raised a thick eyebrow, but Isobel simply grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along faster. They sped through the sewer tunnels, Isobel trying to find a relatively hidden spot so she could discuss her arrangement with Vipir in peace. "You need a fuck, don't you?" He said as they barely passed the first turn.

"It's that obvious?" Isobel scoffed, the humid air stifling to her struggling lungs. Chugging that bottle of mead had definitely made her head feel fuzzy.

"Oh yeah." Vipir chuckled. "You're pretty wound up."

"I just need a bunk buddy for the night." Isobel finally relinquished her search, hoping they were hidden enough that Thrynn wouldn't intrude. "And that buddy needs to keep his mouth _shut_. I'd lose a lot of respect if any of the seniors found out, and I don't want any more drama between me and Mercer. "

"You want me though? Why not Thrynn or Brynjolf, those guys actually have it out for you."

Isobel flinched at the comment.

"Because bedding them would result in baggage, they wouldn't let it go, and like I said I don't want any drama. I just need a quick release that _no one_ will know about."

"Okay, okay." Vipir started to get giddy, a twinkle growing in his eyes.

" _No_. _Not_ okay." Isobel grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down to her height. "I don't want a single _peep_ coming out of you about this, do _not_ brag or boast about me the way you do about other girls. This has to be _secret_."

"Last thing I want to do is break your trust, Issy. You don't have to worry."

That made Isobel feel better, she knew long ago that Vipir was loyal and his words eased her mind.

"Okay." Isobel let Vipir go. "Where can we go that's discreet?"

"I usually take Bolli's wife to the Fishery, it's empty at night and pretty isolated from any guards."

Isobel liked the idea, so she let Vipir lead her by the hand through the tunnels and up to the surface, only passing a few townsfolk as they jogged towards the docks under the starry sky.

Vipir picked the lock in no time, peeking his head in to check if the building was clear before he and Isobel entered. It was a small little shack with a large pool in the center of the lodge, the finned backs of salmon slithering through the black waters.

"This way. They have a small office back here. There's no fireplace so it'll be cold-"

"That's fine." Isobel snapped, only to immediately recoil. "Sorry, I didn't mean to come off as rude..." Vipir simply laughed.

"You _are_ on the edge, aren't you?"

Isobel followed him into the office, it was a small room with a desk on either side, both covered in various business ledgers and papers. And it was quite chilly, with no comfortable surface save for a ratty, frayed rug that adorned the floor.

After Isobel lit the lanterns and Vipir locked the door the air suddenly grew thick with awkwardness, both of them knowing what had to happened next but feeling too weird to simply go at it.

Isobel slowly walked over to a desk and sat up on its edge, her feet dangling off its side as Vipir approached her. He gently started unbuckling her belts as she sat, deep in thought and distant.

"I need you to kiss me..."

"Like... on the lips? I dunno Issy, that's kinda... intimate." Vipir hesitated.

"I need to get the taste of Brynjolf out of my mouth." Isobel's voice cracked.

"Wait... what-" But Vipir was cut off by Isobel's pleading lips. It was difficult at first, with images of Brynjolf flashing painfully in her mind, but the longer she tasted and felt skin the more natural the motions came, as if by muscle memory. She pulled Vipir's hips against hers and deepened their kiss, prompting him to start undressing her more vigorously.

"See, your tits aren't _that_ small." Vipir broke their kiss to laugh heartily, groping her breast inwith the palm of his hand. Still chuckling he pulled away from her and began to unclothe himself, Isobel untying her trousers as she shook with anticipation.

"You have to promise me this won't reach the Guild." She chattered, knowing now that she wasn't going to hold back. That they had had passed the point of no return.

"For the thousandth time, yes. I promise. I promise I won't brag about bedding you, I promise this is a one time thing with no strings attached, I promise to pull out and I promise to not get it in your hair." Vipir smiled at Isobel's impatient desperation, pressing her nude body against his half-dressed one as her fingers yanked his pant strings. "Ow, calm down! My chest is still sore."

She managed to mumble an insincere apology but she didn't slow in her quest, Isobel could feel his engorged manhood spring forward against her belly as she finally undid his trousers, and as soon as Vipir shimmied out of his pants she brashly dragged him down and onto the floor. It was obvious she hadn't had any sort of sexual release in a very long time, she was so build up and frantic Isobel didn't know what to do with herself. Vipir noticed it too as he leaned over her, planting kisses on her stomach as he made his way lower down and stopping when he got to her dark curls.

"Damn, you're this wet already?"

" _Just put in it me!_ "

Vipir obliged with a grin, as he entered her she couldn't help but gasp. Isobel had almost forgotten how endowed most Nords were, and although she knew how to handle the discomfort until her body adjusted it was difficult when there was little to no slow start. Vipir only took a few test thrusts before going fast, each guttural grunt sounding from his chest accompanied by the clap of flesh on flesh. Cumulatively Isobel felt her aggressiveness grow to match his with each of his rough drives, and it was during a particularly hard slam that Isobel growled loudly, digging her nails into his back and burying her teeth in his shoulder.

"Ow, hey hey! Who's the man here?" Vipir joked with a wince. She knew he was teasing, Vipir knew how she much _abhorred_ being referred to as "the woman" in the bedroom, and regardless of his attempt of a pained smile she didn't find it funny. Isobel violently slammed into him, rolling him over to position herself on top, ignoring his cry as she braced both her hands of his forehead, preventing him from leaning up.

"Who's the man? _Who's the man?_ " She pumped her hips with each word. Vipir could only stare up at her, unable to moan or grunt. Slowly Isobel started to gyrate harder, Vipir clasping onto her hips as she rocked. "Vipir the Fleet... Your nickname better not match your bedroom prowess. You cum first and I'm not stopping until I've had two more."

"Oh boy, this is going to be fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Isobel really really sucks at coping with shit. More on why that is will be revealed over time. Gee, I wonder if this rendezvous with have any negative consequences?


	24. The Arrest of the Imp and the Fleet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Sexual Assault scene.

Vipir was still shaking after his climax, Isobel panting next to him as they laid on the fishery floor and tried to breathe in the muggy air. The thin layer of perspiration that clung to her skin made her shiver as a dumb smile slowly spread across her face. Her stock piled frustration was finally out of her system. Her head felt clearer already.

"Thanks." Isobel wiped the sweat from her upper lip.

"No problem..." Vipir chuckled between breaths. "...I've never slept with someone like you before, and I'm not just saying that."

The odd comment instantly jarred Isobel.

"Why do you say that...?"

"I knew you liked being in control, you always said you liked being 'the man' in the bedroom, and I thought I knew what to expect because I've slept with other girls like that. Like Haelga sometimes. Except they were smug about it, they would smirk and gloat when I would get hurt or if I begged." Vipir's head turned to look at Isobel. "I thought you were going to kill me."

Isobel swallowed heavily, trying to process Vipir's words. Normally she wasn't like that at all, she very rarely ever had sex without grinning and laughing. True, she was on the rougher side, she was known for that, but as she saw the pained grimace on Vipir's face and the bite marks on his shoulders she couldn't help but feel a flare of guilt.

She had gone hard on him. It was like she screwed him as if she hated him, but he had done no such thing for her to treat him like that. On the contrary he was one of her closest friends in Skyrim and had agreed to help her relieve her tension in her favourite way. An apology somehow lost its way in her throat, and all Isobel could do was raise a glowing hand.

"You're one of my best friends, Vipir." She asserted as she placed her hand on the bite marks on his shoulders. "You know that, right?"

"I know. You're one of mine too." Vipir smirked. "It's going to be real shitty when you go back to Cyrodiil..."

Isobel agreed, trying not to think about leaving Skyrim too much. They stayed silent as Isobel healed him, his bites, bruises, and the pain she rehashed in his still fragile chest.

"Issy," Vipir suddenly propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. "Tell me, have you at least _once_ cried during or after sex?" The complete randomness of the question caused Isobel to burst out laughing before Vipir spoke over her again. "No seriously, have you? Like even when you were still young with R'vanni?"

"Yes Vipir, I've cried after sex." Isobel giggled.

"Aha!" Vipir snapped his fingers. "You _have_ to help me, I have no idea why women do it and haven't the faintest clue how to handle it. Makes me feel like an absolute prick. What was going on in your head?"

"I was thinking about how I was going to heal the rip between my legs, and which Destruction spell I was going to use on the sleeping Nord next to me."

"I'm not talking about what happened in Chorrol, Cock Shocker." Vipir rolled his eyes before Isobel gave him a small zap on the nose. He yelped before pinching her own nose, causing her laugh to sound nasally and squeaky until she pushed him off.

"No Vipir, I haven't had a profound cry after sex. I know the kind you're talking about and I don't understand it either. I take it Fentula is the first woman to come to your mind when you think of weeping... Oh shit..." Isobel cursed as she made to get up only to see the stains they had made on the office rug.

"No, this is good-" Vipir started.

"How is this good?! Nobody can know we did this, Vipir!"

"Issy, relax." Vipir gently held her arm to keep her from bolting up. "Bolli's gonna see it and get suspicious of his wife again... which means I might get a job. And I could use the coin, Brynjolf's been cracking down on me-"

Isobel didn't hear the rest of his sentence. The same snapping sensation that caused feelings of breaking dams and floods resurfaced in her chest, beating the breath out of her and nullifying the brief peace Vipir had given her as if it was never there.

"I need you to fuck me again." Isobel interrupted Vipir's rambling.

"...What!?" He asked in disbelief. "Issy, I just finished, I can't just-"

"I need you to fuck me!" Isobel repeated loudly. Her teeth were clenching again and she had to wrap her arms around her legs to try bracing herself from shaking. She was feeling the training room all over again, and the last thing she wanted to do was go back to the cistern, she felt sick just thinking about seeing him...

"Gods, you actually _are_ in love with Brynjolf..." Vipir was astounded, trying to look into Isobel's bewildered eyes only for her to turn away. Hearing his name the second time was worse and only caused her to feel more nauseous and overwhelmed. "Damn me..."

"Vipir, let's just-"

"No! Damn me!" He shouted, grabbing Isobel's chin and forcing her to face him. "I should've known! I should've known something was up, that there was a reason you were so upset. Did something happen between you two?"

"Shut your mouth!" Isobel snarled, she was starting to feel like an animal backed into a corner and was on the verge of lashing out like one would.

"No, what happened between you two? Issy, look at me." Vipir tightened his grip on her chin as she tried to thrash her way out of his grasp. "Hey! We're best friends, remember? You can tell me anything... What happened?"

The softer, more sensitive way he spoke those last words made Isobel start to well up, the bubbling turmoil inside her simmering up her throat as she finally opened her mouth.

"We kissed in the training room... just before supper." Saying it out loud made her voice crack, and before she could help it a sob escaped her lips. She clutched her hands to her mouth with wide eyes, as if she had blurted something horrendous and vulgar, and another muffled cry made her entire frame convulse. She could see the pained expression on Vipir's face as he looked at her.

"Damn me... Come one, get up." He grabbed Isobel by the arms and brashly yanked her up. "Get dressed, we're going back to the cistern."

"I can't! I can't go-"

"Yes, you can, Issy. I'm going to be right beside you." He answered over his shoulder as his stepped into his loincloth. "I won't make you speak to Brynjolf, or anybody for that matter, but we are going to go to the cistern and try to figure things out-"

"Figure _what_ out, Vipir!? What are you talking about?!"

"Listen, I messed up here, Issy. I should've known something was up, and I'm sorry for fucking you when that wasn't what you needed." Vipir threw her her undergarments before continuing to dress himself. "You needed a friend to confine in, not a bunk buddy."

" _Who are you right now?!_ " Isobel cried, her vision growing blurry as she tried to blink away tears. "What happened to the Fleet who would fuck anything with-"

"He got a best friend, okay?!" Vipir snapped. "Now get dressed!" The sudden fierceness in his tone startled Isobel and forced her to dress under his stern gaze. She was completely blown away at Vipir's sudden leadership, she had only known him as the man-child who didn't take responsibility for anything and acted on impulse. He seemed to be surprised at himself too, as he frowned and mouthed silent, scolding words to himself. Isobel hadn't even done up all her belts when Vipir took her by the hand and led her out of the office.

"We are _done_ talking about Brynjolf for tonight. Right now I'm taking you to the cistern, getting you a mead and your flute, and we're going to make fun of Niruin until Delvin tells up to shut up and go to sleep. When you're stable and able to think, then we'll talk-" Vipir hadn't even opened the door to Riften's docks fully before he was met with a hard punch that sent him reeling to the ground.

"Vipir!" Isobel knelt to his side, holding him up as she saw Maul's huge frame fill the threshold, barely visible against the black sky. "Back off, Maul." She hissed, holding a glowing hand to Vipir's jaw and pulling him close.

"So you'll sleep with man-sluts but not those you owe it to?" He glowered, Isobel had forgotten how deep-set and dark his eyes were.

" _Back off."_ She repeated, Vipir staring wide-eyed at the beast of a man above them. "Leave now. You hurt either of us and-" She cut off by Maul's foreboding snicker.

"And what?" He closed the door behind him and took a step forward. "Get fined for stopping two trespassing thieves? Maybe Maven would have me get arrested?"

Isobel knew if Maul was able to beat Dirge she would have to fight dirty in order to protect herself and Vipir. She instantly bolted up at Maul's approach and made to drive her boot into his groin. He quickly caught her foot and mercilessly twisted it, making her cry out in agony as Vipir lunged.

"Don't you hurt-"

But Maul had delivered another devastating blow to Vipir's jaw and caught him before he fell, hoisting him up and throwing him over the wooden rails and into the pool of salmon. Isobel ignored the heat of her twisted ankle and went to dive after Vipir, not knowing if he was unconscious or not, but Maul had grabbed her by the waist and thrown her over his shoulder.

" _STOP!_ " Isobel shrieked, panicking and thrashing relentlessly as Maul booted open the office door. She channeled the Fear that was surging through her whole body into her hands and pressed her red-glowing palm against Maul's back, but he had no reaction.

Isobel felt her body slam onto the desk, an inkwell jarring into the back of her head painfully. Maul was pinning her down, and holding one calloused hand on her throat he reached up and pulled a plain looking necklace from his bosom.

"I don't really like being taken advantage of." He growled, swinging the chain in front of Isobel's eyes. She could see a blue shimmer in the metal, realizing it was enchanted. That's why her Illusion wouldn't work.

And new wave of frenzy washed over Isobel and she thrashed again, only for Maul to slam her head onto the desk for the second time, making her see stars. His grip on her throat tightened, and soon her air passage was completely blocked off. Keeping his hand clamping her neck he pulled off the belt that contained her daggers and threw it across the room, he then started to tear off her trousers. Isobel sensed what he was doing and began to claw and dig her nails into his hand. Her screams were stopped like her air, creating a knot in her throat as he continued to press in his weight onto it.

"You know how deals work in this business, Imp. You can hardly blame me for taking what you owed me." Maul's tone was sickly deep and condescending as he put even more pressure on her constricted neck. Isobel could feel her muscles start to slow and cramp as her bulging eyes finally fogged over, knowing full well she was on the edge of passing out.

As Maul yanked her smalls to her knees she felt his body thrown back and the pressure on her throat was gone.

It took Isobel several tries to gulp air into her lungs, her vocal chords too ripped to cough or scream. Punches, stabs and arrow punctures were one thing, but Isobel had never been strangled so severely, and it held a pain that was totally unique of anything she'd experienced before. Her head was swirling, her brain hazy from its deprivation from oxygen, and it wasn't until she heard the commotion surrounding her did she snap back into reality.

She tried to sit up, her heart beating violently against her ribcage made her feel even more dizzy and light-headed, but she could barely raise herself more than a couple inches. Her neck wouldn't let her, the pain of supporting her head was excruciating.

That was until she heard Vipir's cries echoing the thumping sounds of punches. She could hear Maul grunt with each strike, he must've been beating Vipir's delicate torso from the extent his pained retching.

Isobel reached for the ring of lock picks on the belt circling her hips, jingling to release one as she grew more and more desperate hearing the sickening sounds of a friend being hurt. She silently screamed as she slid off the desk, her head hanging limply before she forced herself to raise it just in time to see the collision of Maul's fist into Vipir's gut. They laid entangled on the floor, Maul's back towards Isobel as he ignored her entirely and focused instead on beating the Nord beneath him. Isobel crawled over as fast as she could with her pants still wrapped around her injured ankle, tears streaking her face as she gripped her weapon.

Eyes were a weak spot for almost every creature.

Wrapping her arm around Maul's thick neck she plunged her lock pick into his right eye.

Maul's roar seemed to shake the building as Isobel twisted and jammed her pick deeper. Finally Maul managed to buck her off with such force it caused her to slide and roll across the floor and remain still, her neck feeling like it was about to snap off.

Screaming and snarling Maul thrashed around blindly for a few moments before finally ripping the lockpick from his decimated eye. No sooner had he thrown the gory pick aside did the door to the fishery burst forth, four guards with swords drawn rushing to the scene.

"By the Nine, what is this!?" One bellowed, looking at the blood pouring out of Maul's socket and Vipir's soaking wet, curled up body. No one could answer, Isobel simply laid on the ground as sweat plastered her hair to her forehead and dripped off her nose. "Get a healer! We have wounded!"

A new wave of tears dripped from her bloodshot eyes as she listened to Vipir's struggled gasps, trying to face him but not being able to. Instead she was grabbed roughly by the arms and dragged up to her feet, nearly fainting at the sudden rush of movement as someone unceremoniously yanked up her pants.

"You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people. What say you in your defense?" One guard interrogated furiously as Vipir was also pulled up, Maul still bellowing as he clutched his eye.

"They're in with the Thieves Guild!"

* * *

Brynjolf was in one of Riftweald Manor's closets, pulling out papers from a dusty, cluttered shelf and handing them to Delvin.

"Gods, this place is filthy." Delvin coughed, dust and debris filling the air. Brynjolf merely grunted in agreement, his mind was still replaying what happened in the training room hours earlier. "I had no idea things were so disorganized."

"Aye well, Mercer is Mercer..." Brynjolf grumbled, stepping down from his stool and following Delvin to the littered dining room table, already brimming with decades worth of scripts and business documents.

"Ugh." Delvin groaned, sitting in a chair and opening the nearest file. Brynjolf repeated the gesture, turning the pages of a contact book without really looking.

 _'How could I have lost control like that?_ ' He cursed to himself. _'Who knows what effect it had on the lass.'_

He remembered how Isobel's anger turned into ache as he rejected her, despite wanting nothing more than to continue to hold her on the training room floor and ravish her. He found it bizarre that he was attracted to such a figure who walked the delicate tight rope between boy and girl so waveringly, that lacked the curves he so oft went after and held the stubborn personality he normally didn't coexist with.

But after his new experience with her in the training room, Brynjolf had discovered that Isobel's lips were addictingly soft and warm, and that cream scent he always caught whiffs of did in fact exist if one knew where to look for it.

Isobel brought him peace... and happiness. The kinds he hadn't felt in a long time, that was for sure. And regardless of the mess he was feeling inside the corners of his mouth started to turn upwards as he remembered playing fighting with her and their daggers, picturing her wild eyes that looked up at him and didn't see his authority but his humanness.

However, both he and Delvin jumped when they heard the thunder of a door hitting a wall on its hinges followed Mercer's booming voice.

"The Imp got arrested! The Imp and the Fleet!" He screamed, his ire-coloured face emerging around the corner from the foyer as he stormed into the dining area.

"Isobel? Isobel and Vipir?" Brynjolf was not entirely sure how to react to the news, what had they done to get apprehended in such a short time?

"Yes, Isobel and Vipir! The two were fooling around in the gods damn fishery and then nearly killed Maul! As if Maven wasn't already waiting for us to make one more mistake!" Mercer bellowed, his icy eyes on fire.

"When?" Delvin asked in shock. "When did this happen?"

"I just got word from Hans, apparently the whole fucking fiasco happened about an hour ago!" Mercer paced furiously. "They're both behind bars, hopefully they can be cell mates so they could continue their perverted debauchery for the next three years!"

Brynjolf hardened, there was no way he was going to let Isobel fester in jail that long, not if he could help it. He was only confused with one word.

"Perverted, boss?"

"Didn't you hear me the first time? They were fooling around in the fishery! Taking a roll in the sheets! Fucking like two dogs in heat!"

Brynjolf's stomach cramped, curling and withering into itself. Delvin sensed his pain and nudged him, trying to bring him back to reality, but the pent up emotions nearly choked him out as he asked.

"They're in the jails?"

"No, they're eating cakes at the Blue Palace." Mercer spat sarcastically. "We will keep searching for our enemy as if this never happened, we _won't_ falter. And if I hear talk about bailing or breaking them out from any of the Imp's posse I will personally whip each of them until they throw up bile!"

Contrary to his word, Mercer proceeded to cut Brynjolf and Delvin's work short, presumably so he could skulk about his manor in peace. It wasn't until the two men were alone outside on the cold street did either of them speak.

"Ya alright?" Delvin's voice was low, but Brynjolf still flinched at the words. Just the mental image of Isobel caressing someone naked made him feel a tight squeeze of nausea. Was she really that promiscuous? That just because he didn't give into her in the training room she replaced him within the hour with someone else?

"I'm fine, Delv." He growled. "I'm just really craving a drink."

"Ya sure that's a good idea, Bryn?" Delvin placed his hand on Brynjolf's shoulder but he shrugged it off.

"Aye, it is."

And while he was drowning the sorrow and grief he couldn't understand behind the statue of Talos, alone and greeting the bottom of a bottle over and over again, Brynjolf, for the first time in his life, felt what he had inflicted on countless women before.

Heartache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos and comments everybody <3  
> I'm sorry for being so mean to my main characters, but (a word of warning here), this is really only the beginning of their torment. I promise there's a happy ending, Bryn and Issy just have to survive some major obstacles and grow as people before that happens.


	25. Behind Bars

Isobel wheezed in the corner of her prison cell, trying not to focus on the pain that still ripped her throat with each breath. After ensuring her injuries weren't fatal the Riften guard shackled her hands behind her back to prevent her from using magic, and precariously threw her into the darkness.

She didn't know where Vipir was and that made her sick with worry, she at least wanted the peace of mind that he was safe and that his chest wasn't completely destroyed. Guilt poured over her like a frozen sleet every time she realized how much danger she had put Vipir in. Not only was Maven and Maul out for him now, but Mercer had to have found out of their rendezvous.

_'What have I done?'_ The question tormented Isobel all day. _'The whole Guild must know by now.'_

_'Including Brynjolf...'_

Maul was fine, in the grand scheme of things. His eye was completely destroyed but her pick didn't hit his brain, and a Priestess of Mara had already sealed up his socket and given him the eye patch he'd wear for the rest of his life. Saying Maven was furious was an understatement, the harsh woman had visited Isobel that morning, her usual smoky voice now blazing.

"To imagine I thought you the redeemer of the Guild." Her words hissed and crackled as Isobel rested her limp head on the iron bars, gazing up at her languidly. "I am granting you audience here exclusively because I wanted you to be the first informed of my resignation with the Guild. That rat hole isn't even worth the coin I pay them to scare my employees, let alone the bail for those who put _lockpicks_ into my own people."

"Maul crossed the line." Isobel's rasp was barely even audible. "Listen to me, you think he was choking me in an act of mutual pleasure? He almost killed both me and Vipir!"

"I have half a mind to just kill you myself. I'd probably be doing the Guild a favor, ridding them of such a burden."

"And I suppose you'd call upon the Dark Brotherhood for that? As if you would kill me yourself." Isobel spat fiercely, glaring at the dangerous woman. "You're a coward Maven, and you wouldn't be a _quarter_ of the woman you are today if it weren't for the Thieves Guild."

Maven clasped the bars with her jeweled hands, her teeth clenched in a vicious snarl.

"May this be our last meeting, Imp." She growled solemnly before storming away. Isobel was too riled to feel any sort of relief.

Shackled... in the dark... indefinitely. The feeling of being trapped seemed to press down on her the more the day went on, making her feel claustrophobic and restless. Isobel was slowly realizing she had nowhere to go.

She couldn't return to Cyrodiil, even though it had been four months since she fled to Skyrim she wasn't going to risk going back if the Gray Fox hadn't summoned her, she doubted those seeking her would have given up by then. Now Isobel couldn't return to the Guild in the sewers beneath her. And even though she was in trouble with a family as violent as the Black-Briars, Skyrim law and a major crime organization, she couldn't leave Riften... not without missing Gray Fox's summons. She very well might have to spend the rest of her time in Skyrim, the province she originally sought sanctuary in, in prison.

How she ached to speak to anyone from the Guild, explain to them what happened. Especially Brynjolf.

Every time she heard footsteps her head turned in excruciating pain to see flaming hair framing the strong Nordic features she so desperately wished to see, only for her to be disappointed as a guard patrolled by. She honesty didn't know how Brynjolf would react to the whole situation, or specifically the fact that Isobel and Vipir had fucked around... Brynjolf _had_ rejected her, so he could hardly care if she slept with someone else. Isobel was a good sport when the Bedroom Bandit had gone after Ysolda in Whiterun, it only seemed fair if he did the same... at least, she hoped.

Regardless, the mere idea of Vipir helping her figure things out instead of trying to fuck or drink the situation away did seem appealing, and Isobel started to feel that maybe, possibly, she could work things out with everyone... _maybe._

Vipir also said Isobel was "in love" with Brynjolf, and the notion filled her with such a barrage of emotions it was difficult trying to untangle and differentiate them. She _loved_ lots of people but had never been _in love_ , and she never felt the desire to tie herself down to any one person before. Simply testing the waters of such a foreign concept made her feel a fear and anger as if she was at risk at destroying her entire identity... That she would no longer be Isobel Woodwing, the minxy and mischievous free bird, if she took on the chains and tethers of an actual relationship.

But... there was a tiny spark in her that was excited. That kept nudging her incessantly every time she tried to be logical and told herself it would be pointless falling in love with the Nord she would leave behind once her home was safe, and that all chances they might of had she demolished in the last twenty-four hours anyway. It all put an anxiety and panic in her she'd never felt before, like something was slipping through her fingers that wasn't as replaceable as a coffer of septims or a highly profitable business deal.

She leaned her forehead against the cold iron bars, peering down the hall of cells curiously until she saw a familiar face in the shadows. It was Brand-Shei, his Dunmeri features hallowed and gaunt as he picked at a loaf of bread. He was definitely skinnier, and his movements were slow as his long fingers tore apart the stale bread. Isobel watched him for awhile, feeling the same lack of remorse she had for every other one of her victims, on the contrary she found herself fondly reminiscing about her and Brynjolf's first meeting in the marketplace.

_"Psst!"_

Isobel looked around for the source of the sound, and found it in the cell right beside her.

"You're from the Guild?" The male voice asked. Isobel pressed her face against the bars as much as she could but she still wasn't able to see into the cell next to her. "Brynjolf leave you in here like me?" Isobel's heart stopped at the name, her intrigue for the faceless voice increasing thousandfold.

"Yes." Isobel croaked. "You know Brynjolf?"

"Aye... big, bad Brynjolf... didn't like the way I play thief so he chucked me in here."

"What do you mean?" Isobel tried to make sure her delicate throat didn't give out during what she knew would be an interesting conversation.

"Look, he says he needed coin, so I got coin. Who cares if people got hurt? Blood washes off septims... Now I'm sitting in here counting skeever droppings for another four bloody years while he's drinking Black-Briar mead with Maven." Isobel very well understood the reason of the man's captivity, killing targets was a major rule breaker in almost every Guild she'd heard of. No wonder Brynjolf left him in here.

"Well, in case you didn't hear Maven chew me out this morning, she's no longer a client. So something tells me the two won't be sharing mead for awhile now."

"Oh yeah, I did hear that." The man sniggered delightfully. "Talking to Maven like that... You're just fearless, aren't you? Or stupid... No wonder Brynjolf left you. Well, you _and_ your boy-toy upstairs."

"Piss off." Isobel hissed. She didn't need some petty murderer telling her she fucked up, by the gods she knew it well enough already.

"Hah!" He scoffed. "Things sure are different from when I was in the Guild. Two whelps take a turn in the sheets and no one would bat an eye, Brynjolf most of all. Hell, he didn't even care when I was fooling around with Vex during their little fling." Isobel eyes widened as she listened intently, ravenous for more pieces of Brynjolf's puzzle to be given to her.

"How long ago was this?"

"Bah, fifteen years ago or so." The voice grunted. "Vex... what a fox. Never heard of a man in that Guild that didn't have the hots for her, boy. Bloody Delvin's attempts at wooing her were the greatest form of entertainment we had back then!" He laughed as Isobel tried comprehending the friendly and wise Delvin pursuing the icy Vex.

"Was she always such a frigid bitch?"

"In her own way I suppose." He sighed. "I like to think she had a special spot for me though, she saved my life once after all. It's how I got my name, Molgrom Twice-Killed!"

"Twice-Killed?"

"Aye. Got into a scrap when I was still a free man at the Ragged Flagon. Some idiot named Fa'ir stole himself a guard's sword and kept boasting about it. He's making too much racket and I'm trying to get Vex drunk so I tell him to keep it down and he just runs me right through! After Vex tore the guy to bloody pieces, she gave me a potion. If she hadn't of been there... " Molgrom trailed off, leaving Isobel reeling at the idea of Vex fighting for and healing someone. Had the seniors really changed that much during the hard times within the Guild? "Well, anyway, after I got back to the Guild, I decided to start calling myself Twice-Killed."

"But you weren't killed. Not even once." Isobel's voice cracked, she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to talk.

"Yeah, but Twice-Killed has more of a ring to it!" Molgrom shouted defensively. "Besides, after that incident little Vexy and I would bed anywhere and everywhere..."

Isobel continued to listen to Molgrom's descriptive and rather vulgar retellings of various nights with the senior thief, occasionally she tried to bait the conversation back to Brynjolf, but with no success. Eventually she couldn't bear to even pretend to listen and resorted to watching Brand-Shei sleep in his blanketless cot.

With the extinguishing of the ward's torch lights for the night, Isobel felt her own small hope for freedom become extinguished. No one was coming for her. No surprise there. But she couldn't stand prison, the shame and humiliation of being a professional criminal behind bars was more than she could tolerate. And by the gods she _was_ a professional, so she had to do what any professional would.

So Isobel forced to herself to start gagging, making as sickly, loud retches as she possibly could. When the guards ignored her she upped her theatrics, throwing in cries and sobs as she thrashed on the ground like one possessed by a Daedra. It wasn't too long until her chokes became genuine as her vocal chords tore themselves apart, even Molgrom started yelling at her to shut up.

"What is wrong with you, woman?" A guard stomped over indignantly, before becoming startled at Isobel's wild form on the prison floor. Cautiously he tried to get a closer look, still keeping to his side of the iron bars.

Isobel thought of playing her flute, that precious instrument that drew forth the most beautiful feelings of nostalgia, and quickly jerked so her hand brushed the guard's boot through the bars. He was easy, she could see his tension slouch the moment she touched him.

"Hey there, friend." Isobel grinned tearfully up from the filthy ground, swallowing the last of her coughs. "How's your patrol going?"

"Oh, y'know, damn _boring_." The Nord mused, speaking as with an old comrade. "Cousins out fighting dragons, and what do I get? Guard duty."

"Oh I could tell you a thing or two about boredom from in here." Isobel quipped, eliciting a few chuckles from the guard. "Say, how about you unshackle me and I can show you a few card tricks? It wouldn't harm anyone if we kept each other entertained, right?"

The guard obliged without a worry, entering Isobel's cell and unlocking her manacles. The very moment the cuffs were off her wrists Isobel sprang to her feet, shackling the guard in turn to the bars of her cell.

"My friend Vipir, where is he?" Isobel further instilled arcane calmness into the man as she interrogated him, pushing him further into blissful serenity and numbing his mind to any cause for alarm.

"He's in a separate ward upstairs."

"And my belongings?" Isobel made to tear off the guard's boot, revealing a socking foot so foul of odor it made her gag.

"In the office near the entrance. If they haven't sold it off yet and-" The rest of the sentence was muffled by Isobel shoving his sock as far into his mouth as possible.

"Hey! Somebody's breaking out in here! Come quick!"

Brand-Shei was hollering from his cell, of course he'd be a fucking snitch. Isobel whipped the guard's sword from its sheathe, leaving him to hum to himself and instead approaching the Dunmer with her weapon. All she had to do was lock bloodshot eyes with Brand-Shei, making sure he saw the sword in her one hand and the prison keys in the other, and he backed down humbly.

"Go! Get out of here! Before more come back!" Molgrom hissed from his own cot. And Isobel obeyed.

Now she had to hurry before things got out of control.

Isobel raced to the second of the dungeon, quickly casting illusion on the two guards she had to pass. She only hoped she had enough time to tell Vipir was she needed to say. Finally, she found his cell.

"Vipir!" She gasped, her friend calling her name in return as they clasped each other's hands through the bars, ignoring the scoffs and whistles from the other prisoners. Isobel couldn't hold back her tears. Vipir looked so awful, with dark, tired eyes and his topless torso shaking in the cold and horrifically bruised. He seemed to be appalled by her appearance too.

"Hey now, Issy. No need to cry." He whispered, wiping her tears. "You did nothing wrong-"

"Yes I did! The Guild is in trouble because of me, and you're in danger because of me! I-I-"

"Issy, you saved my life." Vipir said sternly. "Maul would've killed me and raped you. How can you feel guilty for defending us?"

"It was my fault, I shouldn't have told him I'd sleep with him for info-"

"Isobel, shut up!" Vipir snapped. "Maul knew that offer was void long ago! He was wrong!" Isobel's mouth gaped open and shut, struggling to form words as she grimaced.

"I can't break you out of here..." She whispered after a pause. Vipir looked at her in disbelief.

"Why?" He asked incredibly.

"Because you're safe in here." Isobel sniffed loudly. "I'll get Tabitha or Hans to smuggle you healing potions, but you can't go back to the cistern for awhile. I have no idea how the Guild is going to respond, I need to take the heat for this."

"Are you out of your _bloody_ mind, Issy?" Vipir hissed. "Why are you-"

"Because this is the kind of shit best friends do for each other." Isobel interrupted before more tears fled from her eyes. "I've had best friends killed because of me before, I can't have that happen again..." She had to remove herself from Vipir's hand to cover her sobs, Vipir not knowing what to say or how to react at her confession as she tried in vain to compose herself. "I _can't_ go through that again. That is why I'm keeping you here. I just wanted to tell you that I'm so, so sorry, and that I'm going to take care of everything, then I'll come back for you." Vipir merely stared in shock as Isobel gave a final teary smile and turned to leave.

"Issy!" Vipir called, but Isobel shook her head as rivers rolled down her cheeks.

She wasn't going to let what happened in Cyrodiil repeat itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is drama central and one of the hardest scenes I've ever had to write. :)


	26. Isobel's Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million years ago when I first started this story, I knew I wanted to make a more challenging romance. One where the pairing wouldn't be overcome by immediate infatuation, easily fall into each other's arms, and fit together perfectly. I wanted to write about lovers who had major flaws and fights, something I rarely saw in fanfic romance at the time, and who had to grow as people before achieving a healthy relationship.
> 
> Brynjolf and Isobel will still be somewhat of a "thing" for the next while, but it will be a long, long time before they even carry out a conversation together. It's why I hesitate to put romance tags on this, because I don't want anyone to come here looking for a sensual, passionate or fluffy couple. Both Brynjolf and Isobel have unresolved issues that, in harsh reality, would hinder a romantic relationship instead of strengthen it.
> 
> I also have to give Kevin Smith a huge shout out, as this chapter was heavily influenced by an amazing scene in his film, Chasing Amy. I can't post links so simply type in "Chasing Amy break up scene" into Youtube. I highly recommend you watch it, as I did shamefully plagiarize some lines and really tried to emulate the same emotions. Kevin Smith definitely deserves a lot of credit for helping me write such a difficult chapter.
> 
> Oh boy, here we go.

Brynjolf sat on his bed, meticulously sharpening one of his small throwing knives with his whetstone. It was late, and Brynjolf hadn't done anything all day but sleep off his hangover. Delvin didn't ask him to help continue the futile search for leads on their mystery sabotager, nor did Mercer come down to the cistern after spending almost the full day trying to negotiate and reset terms with the Black-Briars.

It was suffice to say Isobel and Vipir's situation had cast a dreary, uneasiness on the Guild. Nobody could care less of their rendezvous but the aftermath had been devastating. Isobel obliterating Maul's eye just to prevent him from ratting out her and Vipir's "tryst" in the fishery? It seemed ridiculous, but then again, Brynjolf never expected her to bed such a sleaze, so to him anything was possible at that point.

The boys of the Guild weren't fazed at the fact that Isobel slept with someone, especially that that someone was Vipir. However, Brynjolf did notice that Thrynn was acting unusually... _frustrated_ , the warrior tracked straw and hay everywhere from his ripping apart of the training mannequins.

Hearing the juniors talk about how it was only a matter of time before Vipir and Isobel "saw what the other had got" only made Brynjolf more wounded and mortified. His earlier sorrow had been completely replaced with humiliation and anger... anger that someone could possibly move from one man to another so quickly, that someone had jeopardized the entire Guild just because she wanted to hide her perverse actions, that now a centuries old organization was on the verge of collapse.

That he had been so easily duped into thinking she cared about him.

Mead had helped Brynjolf dull the pain the night before and induced him into a dreamless torpor for most of the day, but within the past hour his groggy headache was starting to fade away and the real ache was starting to settle in again, making it impossible to think about anything.

He kept sulking on his bed until Delvin silently rushed into the cistern from the Flagon.

"Bryn! Bryn! I found it!" He whispered anxiously, trying not to wake any of the juniors and starting to gently shake Vex in her cot. "Vex... Vexy... I need ya to go get Mercer, quick! Get him and bring him to the Flagon!" Vex heard the near-panic in Delvin's tone and rapidly woke up.

"What's going on?" Brynjolf hissed as he stood from his bed. "Did you find something?"

"I'll explain everything once we all sit down. We may still have time to figure this all out." Delvin merely grabbed Brynjolf by the arm and dragged him to the tavern.

Brynjolf entered the Flagon behind Delvin, an open contacts book sprawled out on his usual table on top of dozens of loose papers and letters. After he and Delvin dragged some extra chairs to the table and lit a few more lanterns Vex entered with Mercer, still in his night cloths, following her.

"Thank the bloody gods, Delv." Mercer spoke curtly. "It's about time."

"Relax, Mercer. What I got is big." Delvin waited for them all to sit before continuing. "The Bill of Sale from Goldenglow mentioned a Gajul-Lei, I knew the name sounded familiar." Delvin pointed to a name in his contacts book. "It's an alias, a fake name for Gulum-Ei."

"Gulum-Ei? He was that Argonian from the East Empire Company, right?" Vex frowned. "He skimmed merchandise for us, gave us first dibs on shipments."

"Aye." Delvin nodded. "He cut ties with us some time ago ago, claimin' he was riskin' his neck too much for us. We were all confused, remember? We gave him good protection and our deal was goin' smoother than butter, he was up to his gills in gold yet he quit on us."

"You think he dropped us to join forces with whoever is out there?" Brynjolf asked.

"It's entirely possible, but we know _for sure_ that he's been in contact with them. I'm bettin' Gulum-Ei acted as a go-between between our mystery friend and their clients. He could very well lead us to 'em, _if_ we can squeeze him hard enough. And I already know who we'll send." Delvin paused, coughing into his arm from the dust that still clung to the books and letters. "Etienne and Thrynn. Etienne was supposed to leave for Dawnstar but with everythin' that happened with uh... ya know, I decided to hold him back just in case. With Etienne's honeyed tongue and Thrynn's muscles that lizard won't stand a chance."

"This is great, Delvin." Mercer was still tense but it was the first time Brynjolf had seen him so relieved and at ease in a long while, normally he was never content with anything. "Maybe once we-" But he stopped, his relaxed face short-lived as it twisted at something over Brynjolf's shoulder. He turned and looked only to have his whole body flinch.

There stood Isobel, silent as ever as she slowly approached the table of cold stares. It wasn't until she was closer to the flickering candlelight did Brynjolf see how horrible she looked. He knew Maul had hurt her in self-defense but she looked a little worse for wear, he could see the hand prints on her purple neck, circling around her throat like a disturbing necklace. When he did brave himself to look up at her face he could see the popped vessels in her glassy eyes. She raised her arms in a _'here I am'_ gesture and simply continued staring blankly.

"Get out of my territory, Imp." Mercer growled, his lip curling ever so slightly.

"I'll wait until you're done your meeting here, then we can talk wherever you want." Brynjolf was appalled at how casual Isobel sounded.

"Where's your fuck buddy?" Vex sneered coldly.

"Same place yours is." Isobel replied without missing a beat. "Twice-Killed told me all about how you sound like a pig being butchered during orgasm. I must say, your taste in men is truly impeccable."

"You bitch." Vex stood from her chair fiercely, Brynjolf rose as well and held the woman back.

"No need for that, Vex. This is coming from someone who bedded the Fleet." Brynjolf spat bitterly. "And Vipir will undoubtfully describe the Imp's performance during his insufferable boasting." He could see Isobel's face rapidly shift from shocked to malicious at his use of her debasing moniker. However, he didn't think he could've prepared for her punch even if he knew it was coming.

"For Oblivion's sake, Brynjolf!" Mercer bellowed, slamming the table in frustration as Brynjolf reeled from the blow. Isobel was already gone, storming out of the Flagon and into the Ratways. "Go bring her back here!" Vex sped forward, eager to pursue and corner Isobel alone.

"No!" Brynjolf snarled, pushing Vex out of the way. He wanted to confront the lass, and as he marched briskly out of the tavern he knew he was going out for blood. That he wanted to see her feeling the same pain he was.

"Isobel!" He shouted, her name echoing down the wet tunnels as he flew through. He could hear her footsteps crash through the filthy puddles but couldn't pinpoint their source. "Isobel! Get back here!" He made a turn and caught a glimpse of a shadow turn around a corner. Brynjolf broke into a steady jog, and once he reached the corner he saw the Breton walking away from him fiercely, pulling up her hood as if to muffle his calls. Finally he caught up and grabbed her arm.

"Where are-"

" _Get off me!_ " She shrieked at him, shoving his grip from her as she continued forward.

"So it's true, then?" Brynjolf hissed. "You and the Fleet?"

Isobel stopped abruptly. Slowly she turned to him, her shiny, blood-shot eyes glaring up at him underneath her furious brows, her lips tight and shaking.

"Is that what you want to hear!? _Is it_?!" She screamed. "Not that I put a lockpick into Maul or challenged Maven to her face? Not that I just did in a mere few hours what your silent enemy has been trying to do for years? No... you want to know whether or not I slept with Vipir, as if that's the worst thing to come out of this whole damned situation!"

"Is it _true_?" Brynjolf repeated through clenched teeth.

"Yes! Vipir and I had sex in the fishery!" Isobel proclaimed with her arms outstretched. Feelings Brynjolf thought were dormant started to shift inside him, jealousy, repulsion, total humiliation... all scraped and pushed against each other in his chest like tectonic plates, causing his heart to shake like his voice.

"Your grandfather was a wise man Isobel, and you a true thespian. You managed to fool me with all your talk of love and-"

"Oh no, you do _not_ bring him into this, this is between you and me." Isobel interrupted with a threatening glare.

"I thought what was between you and me was something a little more genuine! Am I completely out of my bloody mind, or were we not close?! Have I been touched by Sheogorath and been given the insane fucking notion that there was something deeper to us?!" Brynjolf had finally said it out loud, that there was more than a simple companionship to them, and he could see Isobel was more than taken aback at his confession before resorting to her previous anger.

"I'm sorry, I'm must've missed the part where we became an _exclusive relationship_!" She exclaimed bitterly. "If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one who stopped any chance of us being that! What, do you feel like I cheated on you?!"

The truth was yes, it did feel like she was unfaithful. Why Brynjolf felt this way even he couldn't fathom, for she did have a point and he had never been one to care if one of his female companions slept with other men. Now all of a sudden he was valuing fidelity.

"So because I didn't give into you in the training room you had to replace me within the hour with someone else? You're really that desperate!?" He jeered as he took a few steps forward, causing Isobel to move back

"Yes!" She asserted viciously, regaining her stance and pushing Brynjolf away. "Yes, I am! You think that sleeping with another man after being blatantly rejected is the worst thing I've ever done? Hm?!" She continued as her features hardened. "How about the time I was sixteen and let sixty-five year old steward fuck me for two hundred septims, only to have him arrest me for prostitution as soon as he finished in me..."

Brynjolf was caught off guard at this, his frown deepening not in rage but in confusion as Isobel gained more momentum in her confessions.

"Or there was the time I was caught with another woman and a married man, and framed his daughter for skooma possession to keep her from blabbing! I once took on four Imperial soldiers at once, I've wooed more women in Anchor than the men have, my reputation is _legend!_ Ask anyone in Chorrol what happens when-"

"No, Isobel! Stop it!" Brynjolf couldn't take anymore, he didn't know how to process what she was telling him, her romp with Vipir was slowly becoming overshadowed with images he couldn't shake out of his head. Of her being taken by old men, by women, by multiple people, of her naked body entangling with all of theirs. He couldn't help but grimace as if he tasted something foul, and when he looked back at Isobel her face somehow seemed more ugly, the actions of her past turning the rest of her rancid and undesirable. And all he wanted to do was scream at it. "What is _wrong_ with you?! How could you do all those things!?"

"Easily!" Isobel cried, her eyes starting to ripple with tears. "Some I did to numb the pain I've had to deal with since I was a child, some I did simply because it felt good and empowering, and others I did out of downright stupidity! But they are _my_ choices, and I am _not_ making apologies for them now... Not to _you_ ," She screamed and slammed her fists into his chest, causing him to stagger. "Not to _anyone_! I don't regret _any_ of it!" Her damaged voice was starting to break, turning her shrieks in ragged croaks and gasps. Even so she continued to snarl up at Brynjolf and rasped further.

"Maybe you knew where your lust would lead you right away, maybe you were born knowing what you liked and didn't like, but I was not given that luxury, Brynjolf! Every preference I carry with me today is because I had to _try_ it first, I had no innate desires! I had to try _everything!"_ Her breathing was becoming more and more hitched, and words were getting harder to form out of her mouth. "I had to try _everything_... I just... I just never knew what I wanted."

"So I was just going to be another one of your 'tests?' Did you just want to see how Nords performed in their homeland? Is that-"

"No! Listen to me, Brynjolf! Listen!" Isobel's teeth were chattering as she tried to keep her tears back, as she tried to maintain composure despite shaking like a banner in the wind. "I have been with men and women of every race, in every social class from beggar to priest to noble, done things you only read about in smut books, but nothing, _nothing_ , compared to what happened that training room!" Isobel pointed fiercely in the approximate direction of the Guild, her face was now wet with salty rivulets, and even in his current repugnance towards her Brynjolf felt a sudden instinct to hold her that he had force himself to fight off.

"I've never felt anything that even _closely_ resembled what I felt when I was touching you. And even now... I've never actually wanted to be in a specific person's arms before, let alone so desperately as I do in this moment... doesn't take count for _something_?!" Her voice raised into another cry as she made to hit him in his rumbling chest again, only this time it was weaker and more lame, and Brynjolf was able to catch her wrists.

"Please, don't..." The words had slipped out of his mouth before he could help it as he pushed her away. He could tell Isobel had picked up on his still abhorrent tone as she turned away from him, so he simply crossed his arms indignantly and waited for her next defense.

"Are you telling me, that while you have no issues deflowering a virgin and robbing her blind, or letting a lover like Vex sleep with another man behind your back, you have an objection to me having a one-time deal with someone I trust in order to help ease an ache you gave me?"

Brynjolf was shocked that she knew about him and Vex, in all honestly he had nearly forgotten about it himself, it was so long ago and they were so different. Molgrom must've told her about them, the dirty bastard, who knew what else he told her. Regardless of the puzzlement at his own hypocritical behavior, the emotions in his chest were still pressing into one another belligerently, causing him to only feel that pressured quaking and unable to string together a logical thought

"Someone you trust, lass?" Brynjolf retorted quickly. "Do you think Vipir really cares about anything other than getting between your legs?! He used you-"

"NO!" Isobel screamed hoarsely from her damaged vocal chords as she spun back at him, the volume of her denial ringing in all directions of the tunnel. "I USED HIM!" This time she erupted into a fit of ripping coughs and retches, clutching healing hands to her throat and trying to speak between gasps. " _I used him... the exact same way you ... you used Ysolda!_ "

"At least I didn't kiss you before I went and did it!" Brynjolf screamed back, urged on by her breaking voice and crumbling demeanour. Rergardless she stood up and violently jabbed her finger at her heart.

"I _know_ I'm a slut, I _know_ I'm a whore, gods know I'm a lying crook that benefits off the misfortune of others and that I have done things that are truly unredeemable! But do _not_ act like you're on higher moral ground than me!"

"I don't have to be on higher moral ground to not feel compelled to fuck everything on two legs! Gods, I can't even imagine what you could be infected with..."

"I'm _clean!_ I knew where to get good contraceptives and curatives in every nook and cranny of Cyrodiil, and even if those weren't enough there wasn't anything some salves or pennyroyal couldn't fix!"

Brynjolf surprised himself by not falling over, by not being knocked to the ground from the blow she had just hit him with.

Pennyroyal. Isobel had used Pennyroyal. The dangerous herb for inducing miscarriages. An abortifacient

"Do I look like mother material to you?!" She cried, noticing his shock. "Even if the baby miraculously survived nine months of booze it'd be sent to live in some gods forsaken orphanage like Honorhall!"

"I can't believe this..." Brynjolf muttered. Flashes of his childhood were jarring him, words that were bellowed at him over and over again when he was a boy started to echo within his ears.

"Brynjolf, there's a reason you never see pregnant criminals! It's not exactly a lifestyle compatible with raising a child-"

"So you're selfish enough to keep terminating babies because you need to open your legs in order to 'experiment?' Gods, Isobel!" Brynjolf ran his hands through his hair furiously, not noticing Isobel's jaw drop.

"Now wait a damn moment Brynjolf, I know your critical thinking is a little daft at the moment but need I remind you that it takes _two fucking people to make a baby_!?" She bellowed, her hands returning her throat with her volume. "Just because you, the _Bedroom Bandit_ , don't have a womb doesn't mean that you can't get pregnant! Who knows how many red-headed bastards are out there with no fathers-"

Brynjolf turned sharply at her and threw her against the tunnel wall, making her stand on the tips of her toes and yelp as he braced his forearm against her purple throat.

"Take that back..." The voice that said those words were unrecognizable to him, it was too deep and menacing. Isobel simply looked up at him with scared confusion, but it held no effect on him. His ire was turning his heart into stone, and the shifting plates in his chest were grinding so hard against each other Brynjolf felt like he was going to erupt.

"You're just like my mother..."

"Brynjolf..." Isobel started nervously, but he cut her off.

"Weak, selfish, wallowing in self-pity... Except unlike her, you have no regrets, whereas my mother had many. Her most prominent being not taking pennyroyal when I was in her."

Isobel's face contorted into extreme, undeniable pain, but it gave Brynjolf no such comfort, nor did the tears dripping from her eyes.

"I was a spitting image of my father... and she couldn't look at me without seeing him, the man who took advantage of a naive young girl. Who swept her off her feet, promised her love and safety, then vanished the night he first felt me kick."

"Brynjolf, I-"

"I was told since the day I was born that I was a _scoundrel_ , that I was a _stain_ and a _parasite_ , that all men did was 'shag and bag' and that love was a lie. She denied me her surname, denied me an education, denied me everything a mother should've been more than willing to give, because I was only a bad memory to her. How many times she told me of pennyroyal, of how she could've found it if she wasn't desperately waiting for my father to come back... And then Gallus found me... " Brynjolf's tone softened slightly, he heard it and forced himself to respike his anger and regain his stance over Isobel.

"Gallus said I was a kleptomaniac and that I needed to go to Riften. I didn't know what he was talking about, he always used such big words, but the way he made it sound was like I had something good... something that he liked, that he admired... no one had ever said anything to me like that before. So I fled Falkreath as soon as he left town, taking with me my mother's life savings..." Brynjolf remembered the way Gallus laughed and slapped him on the back when he presented her meager wealth to him, and how incomprehensible being praised first felt to him. "It was Gallus and Delvin who taught me how to write and read, Gallus and Mercer who taught me how to fight and steal, and it was Gallus who gave me a home and a purpose... And then she took him away... that _Dunmer bitch_!"

Brynjolf didn't realize he was going limp until he felt Isobel's small arms trying to hold him up. He was too consumed to react to Isobel's touch, his shoulders were slumping heavily and he found himself on the verge of sobbing.

"She killed him, when he loved her... I believed them to prove another one of my mother's ideas as false, that love _was_ true... and then she just..." He couldn't speak anymore, it too hard.

"Brynjolf..." Isobel sniffled. He felt her clammy hand reach up and stroke his cheek, her thumb tracing the scar Gallus had given him when he caught him reaching into his pocket and changed his life forever. And his entire body recharged with venom.

"And _you_... you're like _her_ too, the _gray-skin_... I was a fool to be tricked, to think love was still possible even after my miserable mother and the slaughter of the greatest man I'd ever known... To think I felt things towards you that Gallus told me about 'his little Nightingale.' "

"Listen to me! I-"

" _No._ " Brynjolf slammed her into the wall again, her cry loud even to him in his frenzied state. "I don't want to see your face ever again." This time he let go, only for Isobel to slink to her knees as if in shock. He didn't wait around to see her reaction, he turned to leave, far from satisfied but knowing he had nothing else to say to her.

"Brynjolf! Wait!" He heard the call from behind him and it only pushed him further.

"I don't want to see your face again, you _whore_!" He shouted as he kept forward.

"I SURRENDER!"

Amidst Isobel's open sobs he heard something small skid through the shallow, filthy puddles, colliding with a wall and spinning like a top before it gradually slowed down.

It was the amethyst. The one from their training exercises. Brynjolf glanced over his shoulder at Isobel, on her knees with her face wet and unsightly.

"I surrender, Brynjolf... Please." She pleaded. Brynjolf merely grimaced and continued his way, stepping over the purple jewel and ignoring the loud wails behind him. The hatred burning within him felt righteous, and good.

If he only knew what Isobel would be like when he'd see her next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T_T


	27. A Trio for Solitude

"Thrynn, do you think we'll need two tents or one?" Etienne asked awkwardly at Thrynn's bed.

"I don't know." Thrynn grumbled. As glad as he was to be given an important mission for the Guild, he wasn't real keen on traveling with the young boy all the way across Skyrim and back. "One, I guess. We'll need the shared body heat and to pack as light as possible."

Thrynn also didn't want to leave on account of Isobel. As upset as he was about her rendezvous he saw the fresh crate by Mercer's desk, and knew if Isobel made the mistake of breaking out of jail she would most likely find herself in a horrible situation.

"Etienne, you can't pack books! We need room for food and supplies not damned stories!" Thrynn snapped, and a mortified Etienne pulled out the couple novels he had placed neatly in his pack. Thrynn threw on his thick winter furs and armed himself to the teeth with daggers, a sword and plenty of arrows for his bow. Once he finished adjusting his own pack he and Etienne underwent a quick checkout with Delvin, where he drilled into them yet again that "this was a no kill mission" and "the slimy bastard was dangerous.' And then they were off.

"I hope Isobel and Vipir are alright..." Etienne muttered as they tread down the sewer tunnels towards the surface. Thrynn grunted in agreement.

It was when Thrynn was opening the door leading to the canals did a small, hooded figure waiting on the other side suddenly punch his throat with surprising force, following through with an expert shoulder check that managed to push even him back inside the Ratways. Thrynn immediately pulled out his steel sword, knowing far too well the lowlifes in the Ratways were often insane and violent, but even in the dim light of the sewers did the mysterious body, that now held a dagger in a fighting stance, seem familiar.

"Isobel?" Etienne asked in astonishment, and as Thrynn looked deeper under the shadow of the hood he could see her big eyes.

"Listen up." She spat, and a shiver ran up Thrynn's back. He had never seen her act such a way towards any of the juniors, and the shock caused him to raise his guard further. "I am coming with you to Solitude. Either of you resist and I'll make sure we'll see eye to eye by _any_ means possible, do you understand me?"

"Easy there, Issy." Thrynn spoke sternly, utterly taken aback at her ferocity. Last time he saw her face so twisted was when she had returned from Windhelm after stealing Ulfric's amulet... only then her ire was at Vex and Mercer, and he didn't like having her dangerous glare directed at him.

"What's wrong, Isobel?" Etienne was as anxious at her display as Thrynn was. Isobel's expression seemed to soften at Etienne's voice slightly. "We're not mad at you..."

"Truly?" She pressed, raising her blade. "No hard feelings? No bitterness?" Thrynn could tell the questions were more so for him.

"Aye." He lied, trying not to sound disgruntled. "It's too risky for you here, Issy. Mercer already has a crate ready for you, I'm certain it wouldn't take long for him to find some skeevers. You can join us to Solitude..." Isobel slowly lowered her arm and sheathed her blade, although she still looked extremely defensive.

"Then let's go. I know all about Gulum-Ei and his connection to whoever is out there." She spoke briskly as she held the door open for the two men. Thrynn could hear the market above them waking up, and it seemed to make Isobel bristle. "I _can't_ be seen. I've got the Guild, the Blackbriars and the City Guards on my back, just meet me about three hundred paces south-east of Riften, by that dark stone with the bird carved on it. I got us horses."

"You got us horses!?" Etienne gaped in disbelief, Isobel ignored him as she crept closer and closer to the iron gate leading to the canals. "How did you manage that!?" But Isobel had already bolted.

Although Etienne took a moment to register she fled Thrynn instantly reacted, flying through the iron gate after her before it swung closed. He couldn't stop her though, taking a running start she leaped up and managed to scale the stone wall just high enough to grasp the wooden beams supporting the Plankside docks above them. She pulled herself up with ease, immediately slinking away through the rotted boards like some rat until she reached the canal gates leading out to Lake Honrich.

All Thrynn could do was stare as she hopped over the top of the heavily reinforced gate, giving him once last look before silently vanishing into dreary water on the other side. He couldn't hear a splash.

"What in Oblivion was that?" Etienne spoke behind him.

"I don't know..." Thrynn finally tore his gaze away. He knew what structure Isobel was talking about, and led the way through the city, trying to read the guards of any notable change in protocol or mood but to no avail. The concern of Isobel's mental wellbeing grew with each step, and as they exited Riften he couldn't help but feel like something bigger had happened to her within the past few nights.

The day was miserable and grey, the gusts blowing down the surrounding mountains were swirling with snow flurries and causing the surrounding trees to sway and crack. The mere sound of it drowned out Etienne's hypothetical ramblings about what could possibly be upsetting Isobel as they pushed towards their designated meeting place.

Thrynn saw the two hardy horses before he saw the hooded figure gazing up at the massive stone towering above her. Nobody really knew what the monument was, the carved symbol of a bird holding a sphere within its outstretched wings was a complete mystery nobody cared about. It was meaningless to Thrynn, and its only use was as a landmark within the Riften area.

"It's the emblem of the Nightingales, I've read about it." Etienne had to shout over the wind, making Isobel turn to face them. Her expression was just as stony as the black monolith, and twice as brooding. Her Guild armour was also still soaking wet, likely from her recent dip in the lake, luckily the thick cloak draped over her shoulders looked dry.

"That Nocturnal cult?" Isobel raised an eyebrow critically. "I've heard stories of them, I didn't think there were actual shrines anywhere." She kicked the base of the pillar, causing some of the cracked stone to crumble.

"Where did you get the horses, Issy?" Etienne asked as if it was an important question, and Thrynn rolled his eyes.

"Shadr, the stable hand." She replied, mimicking Etienne's innocent tone. "Same place I got all that." She nodded her head to the pack harnessed to the nearest horse's saddle. "Didn't want to burden you two too much, so I hunted down some food and supplies."

Thrynn was becoming more and more aware of exactly why Isobel held a high rank in her home Guild, he hadn't seen her in action in person and it was definitely impressive. Breaking out of jail, learning of the Guild's latest news that some of the juniors didn't even know yet, and acquiring horses and supplies all in one night while remaining completely unseen was... well, incredible.

"And we're making a quick stop in Falkreath on the way. There's a Sapphire locked away there." There was no option for debate.

Thrynn mounted his bay coloured creature as Etienne and Isobel took the other. Jealousy pricked him again, even though he knew it was smarter to distribute their weight, the two Bretons combined probably weighed the same as him, he still couldn't help but wish it was Isobel wrapping her arms around him. The past few days all hope of winning her had diminished, however... now his spirit perked as he slowly realized that their mission together for the next month would grant him plenty of time to prove he was right for her, that he was better than the Second In Command and the Fleet.

"How far is Falkreath from here?" Isobel asked as they reached the main road, riding west along the blustery shores of Lake Honrich.

"Around the same as Whiterun." Thrynn answered as their horses matched paces, trotting side by side."Only we'll be going through the pass between the Jeralls and the Throat of the World, so it'll take us an extra day."

"Why?"

"Because we're going to spend the night in Ivarstead and enter the pass at dawn. If we're wanting to fight through in this weather we need as much daylight as possible, camping out in the mountains in winter isn't worth the saved time." Thrynn had made the trek through the Jerell pass countless times, but it was still so unpredictable that even he with his experience wouldn't underestimate the harsh climate.

"What's wrong, Isobel?" Etienne looked over his shoulder at her. "What all happened yesterday? We've been worried sick." Isobel merely scowled.

"I'll discuss it later."

* * *

They reached Ivarstead the next day during mid-afternoon, and Thrynn held his ground about staying the night even though Isobel was more than impatient to keep moving. While Thrynn and Etienne tried coaxing her to join them outside to walk around the dirty town, she simply resorted to sulking in a remote table in the inn, her thirst for wine unquenchable.

When Thrynn reminded her they were on a budget she simply emitted a drunken bark of laughter and showed him the coin purse that apparently belonged to the bar maid.

"Something happened that night with Vipir..." Etienne whispered beside Thrynn, repeating himself for the thousandth time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've got the Three Musketeers starting their journey across Skyrim to go break out their friend and beat up some Argonian. One is a drunken grump battling her inner demons, one is tortured by unrequited love, and the other is sad he didn't get to finish Feyfolken II in time.  
> Surely nothing bad will happen.


	28. Lessons for Thieves

The warehouse smelled odd, that was to be expected. You could still inhale that tangy, metallic fish stench from beyond the weathered boards, still hear the roar of waves and seagulls, and sailors shouting as they unloaded cargo.

Isobel was perched atop a fairly tall tower of crates, it made her feel safe being up so high and having a good view of the darkness around her. This was the furthest she had ever been away from kin, her brother was more than a fifteen day trek away at the Imperial City while she was dragged to Anvil by the Imperial below her.

"Isn't that stuff bad?" She asked, taking a break from nibbling her apple. "I thought that stuff makes you crazy."

The Imperial sighed exasperatedly, continuing his stock counting of the crates of skooma.

"Yes, it's bad for you. So don't try any."

"Well, why are we selling it if it-"

"Because _money_ , Isobel. Because money." He interrupted harshly, making some scribbles on his parchment then pushing the crate away, the tinkling of glass and sloshing liquid whimsical to Isobel's ears. "The Khajiit are masters at making this 'bad stuff,' so they smuggle it from Elsywer to Cyrodiil and we, the Thieves Guild, take it off their hands for two hundred septims per stone. We then inspect its quality and sell it across Cyrodiil, ensuring we make a profit. If we didn't distribute it someone else would, so we may as well be the ones getting coin out of it."

"But-"

"You'll understand when you're older." He snapped and shot her a cold glare over his shoulder, before moving onto the next box. "Until then just shut up and eat your damned apple."

She knew Quentin didn't like her, along with most of the other thieves. To them she was just a brat who couldn't comprehend the value of septims or the purpose of crime, she fit in with no one and took her loneliness and frustration out via sniveling like a snotty infant or starting fights with adults three times her size. She was skilled at back talking her superiors, exceptional at escaping when she needed to be reined in, and her obedience, well...

Isobel frowned furiously as she whipped her half eaten fruit at Quentin's head, hitting the back of his hood dead on and causing him to stagger forward and yell. She had finally pushed him over the edge, the way he threw down his quill and spun around made Isobel prepare for the worst.

He started to climb her mountain of cargo boxes and crates, ascending as Isobel quickly scrambled away, her nimble body soaring over the uneven terrain as her pursuer growled in aggravation.

"Come on!" He cursed as Isobel shuffled up some narrow boards and up into a vacant loft. She thought she was safe, grinning in triumph before seeing Quentin slowly but surely climb up behind her. Even when a beam broke beneath his weight he pushed on, and Isobel panicked when she realized she was cornered.

She felt a strong hand grab her wrist and shrieked as it dragged her towards her mentor. She fought as hard as she could, trying to resist Quentin's grasp. Before she knew it she was trapped in an unrelenting bear hug as he brought them back down to the weathered floor, still she thrashed about like a wild animal to no avail.

He dropped her precariously before he even touched the ground, Isobel's stomach dropping as she landed knees first against the wooden floorboards followed by her slamming forearms. She cried out in pain and shock as Quentin wretched her up again.

Isobel still fought against him, snarling and shrieking, until he grabbed her neck and flicked her nose, making her yelp.

"Your brother isn't here, which means you can't pull this shit anymore and not expect me to knock some gods damned sense into your stupid head!" He screamed. Isobel could tell he had been waiting for a moment like this, with no one around for him to lose it on her. "We live in one of the _greatest ages_ for a thief to exist in! You should thank the Daedra that bore you for giving you life and shoving you into the grip of such a prosperous Guild! We haven't always been this rich, we haven't always been this untouchable! And do you want to know why?!"

Isobel's eyes were watering, she still wasn't used to people screaming inches away from her face, for spittle to fling onto her cheeks as the mouth of their origin bellowed at her.

"Because nowadays they blame the victims for the crimes we commit on them, how can we _not_ savour that? To not milk every ounce of it and abuse our new found power? Look!" Quentin grabbed one of Isobel's many long braids, yanking her back over to their crates as she clawed at his unforgiving grip.

"Look!" He grabbed the sides of her head and forced her to look into a crate filled with large sealed jugs of transparent liquid. Of the raw powder. Of large, solidified crystals that Isobel still had no idea how people used. "In one of these jars resides the drop that is going to kill some sweet-tooth in a back alley, or latch onto a first-timer who will become a slave to its sugar for the rest of his life. Look at it!" He squeezed her head tightly as she tried to turn away.

"No, I don't want to!"

"Look at it! Someone's life in one of those jars! They know better than to take one of the most notoriously toxic substances on Nirn, we didn't pour that skooma down their throats, they took it themselves even though they knew the consequences! We aren't responsible for their shitty decisions! You got that?!" Quentin bent down to Isobel's height, staring into her eyes with an earnest fierceness.

"People aren't taught not to steal, they're taught not to keep their doors unlocked or their purses unattended. People aren't taught not to scam, people are taught not to be naive, gullible and easy to fool. Even on subjects that don't pertain to our line of work, something small like how some kids aren't taught how to swim, just not to go in the river. Or something big like how men aren't taught not to rape, women are taught not to wander streets at night or drink in revealing clothing. Do you understand what I'm getting at?" He hissed through clenched teeth as he dug his nails into Isobel's tender cheeks, making her nod rapidly in fear.

"Today, the victims are responsible for our crimes. Folks who fall to folks like us 'should've done this,' or 'should've done that' or 'were asking for it.' We _have_ to take advantage of that mentality, because of it we are more _powerful_ and more _successful_ than we've ever been in centuries. Now come here!" He picked her up and sat her down ungraciously on a nearby crate, forcing her to remain seated as he undid her braids.

"Your protector isn't here, so I'm going to do what's best for you if you plan on making it with us." Quentin spat as Isobel's wild black hair fell down her back. "First we're going to get rid of all these _distinctive_ and _unique_ thread wraps and tassels in your hair. You _can't_ stand out, you have to be anonymous and plain. No colours, no wild, crazy styles." He took his dagger and cut the threads out of her hair, Isobel sniffing softly as the strings of red, yellow and green fell around her. "You still have a bell in here!? Melina specifically told you to get rid of them! How can you sneak when you have bloody musical instruments in your head!"

Bells had always been a part of her family, they braided them into their hair or sewed them onto clothes, and Isobel couldn't help but gasp as Quentin tossed the last family bell she had on the warehouse floor and watched it roll and fall into a crack in the floorboards. He heard her whimper and scoffed.

"What was that one lesson your grandfather taught you? I don't know, there are so many that you and your brother won't shut up about... Oh yes, I remember... _Live forward_. It doesn't matter where you're from, only where you're going." He said in a mocking voice, making Isobel twitch in fury.

"Shut up Quentin, or I swear I'll-" A flick on her nose made her jump again, before Quentin pulled her hair back and started to unclasp the many rings in her ears.

"You aren't a jester anymore, you're a criminal. Your dead family is in your past, you'd do best to forget them. No more bells or threads, no more rings... You need to stop grieving them and move forward." He removed the last of her piercings from her ears and pocketed the metal jewelry. "Thank gods your fucked up clan didn't give a baby like you any tattoos, we're still trying to find some removal acids for your brother."

"There isn't anything wrong with expressing-"

" _Yes_ , there is. You can't hide if you're as typical as a soul gem in a pile of stone, you need to _blend in_." Quentin grabbed her arm and tugged her up and towards the door. "You're too young and naive to deal with skooma yet, so I'm going to give you a simple, pathetically easy job." He opened the warehouse door and threw her out onto the docks, the sea breeze brisk and sharp as it billowed Isobel's loose hair. "Go forth, and don't come back until you shame a lady for not keeping closer care of her coin purse. If you get arrested I'm not helping you, you'll have to wait for your brother." The sky was already in the later stages of twilight, and Isobel didn't like the way the inn-ward sailors looked at her.

"Quentin, let me back in!" She plead, making her way towards him before he pushed her away forcefully, causing her to trip and fall onto the splintered wood.

"Shadow hide you, Iso-"

Isobel heard the whistle of the arrow and ducked immediately, crouching and raising her hands in defeat.

She expected stomping guards, shouts of arrest, her wrists to be put in shackles... instead Quentin collapsed into her line of sight, an arrow plunged deep in his eye. Before she could even scream as a strong hand clasped her chin and wrenched her head upwards, forcing her to look into the face of a Pentius Oculatus Agent. Nausea squeezed her stomach, and before she could do anything vomit erupted from her throat.

"That's it, just let it out." Thrynn soothed as Isobel continued to regurgitate heavily into her bedside bucket, his hand resting upon her back while she purged herself of alcohol.

"Shit..." She cursed as spit dribbled down her chin.

"You drank way too much, you've been puking all throughout the gods damned night." Thrynn scolded. "We're going to rest until you feel strong enough to take on the pass, any later than noon and we're waiting another night-"

"No, let's go. Right now." Isobel threw Thrynn's hand off her and stood up, only to wobble on her weak legs. She wavered, and Thrynn caught her before she could fall.

His touch didn't feel right. She didn't know if it was her drunkenness or if his tenderness but it felt wrong, and when she looked up into Thrynn's hazel eyes she didn't even know what expression he was making at her.

All she knew was that she needed Falkreath. She needed any piece of Brynjolf she could find.

* * *

It still hurt, like a festering wound that wouldn't stop throbbing.

And like a loose tooth Brynjolf was always conscience of it, if it wasn't consuming his thoughts entirely it was still nagging him at the back of his mind, making it impossible to concentrate on anything. Even small talk was difficult without messing up his sentences.

Naturally, Mercer was beyond furious that Isobel had escaped without a trace, and Brynjolf was raked over the coals constantly about letting her get away. The crate was ready by Mercer's desk, the Black-Briars had finally come around and said they would _only_ rekindle their relationship with the Guild if the Imp was brought forward and if they could remain audience as she was packaged and shipped away.

But nobody knew where Isobel went, she was completely gone. Vex continuously scavenged the Ratways, the juniors looked for her above ground, Mercer had spoken with Vipir and tried to squeeze information out of him but even he had no idea where she went.

And as much as it hated it, Brynjolf was worried sick about her too.

He kept asking himself over and over again if he was too harsh, if he was being too prideful. But then he'd remember Isobel's past, her wanton "experiments" and abortions, her lack of apology and regret, and he felt rejustified... and empty. Regardless, he made sure his frown didn't falter, that his teeth didn't unclench. He wanted to reaffirm to all that he was still furious at the Imp and not already faltering.

He merely went through the motions of his day, assigning jobs and missions, briefing with the seniors, and scouting above ground to size up any new folk or shipments in the blustery streets of Riften. He had to avoid the well, the orphanage, the docks by the fishery, any of the Black-Briars or Maul, anywhere where he could see the rocky shores of Lake Honrich where they had taken a few strolls upon.

They, of course, meaning himself and Isobel.

It was constant, all the time, the hurt.

"Boy, we need to talk." Delvin shook Brynjolf, who had fallen asleep atop the Ragged Flagon's bar. "Ya know bloody well about, so just spit it out and it'll save time."

Brynjolf had no idea what time it was, Vekel was gone but the fire that had cooked the night's meal was still going.

"Wake up." Delvin nudged Brynjolf forcefully with his boot before seating himself on the bar stool beside him, still sitting facing the haggard Nord. "I've let ya mope 'round long enough."

"Not right now, Delv."

"Ya bet your pecker it's gonna be right now." Delvin crossed his arms, staring at Brynjolf sternly. "Don't ya dare insult me and claim ya ain't know nothin', I'm not stupid Brynjolf. I know what Isobel meant, and still means, to ya." Brynjolf grimaced at the name, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. "You're fond of her, hm?"

"No matter what I tell you Delvin, you won't accept any other answer than the one you conjured up in your head." Brynjolf growled. "Don't mock my intelligence either, I was aware you were pushing us together, sending me to Whiterun with her even though the job wasn't for me... asking me to look for books in the training room when you knew she was there."

"Aye, cause I saw all the good things she was doin' to ya." Delvin scoffed. "Makin' ya truly smile without that charmin' facade, makin' ya chit-chat 'bout things other than work, makin' ya feel a type of lust that I've never been able to read off ya in-"

" _Shut up_." Brynjolf snapped, and the Breton stopped, waiting for him to continue. It was a few solid minutes until Brynjolf finally broke and spoke again. "I was just another man to her...I wasn't anything special..."

Delvin burst into a fit of wheezing laughs, completely ruining the somber mood. When he didn't stop it only infuriated Brynjolf more and caused him to scowl.

"Oh... Brynjolf, what am I gonna do with ya." Delvin finally managed to speake, his words still accompanied by coughing chuckles that portrayed his true age. "Someone of _your_ talents should be able to see the girl was mad for ya." It was Brynjolf's turn to laugh harshly.

"Like when she slept with another man immediately after she kissed me and-"

"Whoa whoa whoa, you two kissed?" Delvin sat up straighter, and Brynjolf painfully regretted his slip up. "Ya pushed her away, didn't ya?"

"How could I not?"

They were silent yet again, both lost in their own thoughts. The fire behind the bar was still crackling lively, the ever continuous ambiance of sewer water still rippled around them, and the polluted air that plagued Delvin's lungs for decades caused him to cough again. And despite all these sounds Brynjolf had never felt a silence so heavy and pressing. It seemed to stretch on for eternity until Delvin nudged Brynjolf to continue.

"Why would ya? You two were peas in pod, and you're hardly a man to let-"

"It's not like I wanted to! I just can't handle someone with as big a history as her..."

"And what sort of history is she draggin' 'round?" Delvin rubbed his head impatiently, irritated with the red-head's constant need of encouragement. "If it's of the more base variety, might I point out that ya have more than a couple notches in your belt?"

"Nay. It's not the same." Brynjolf shook his head. "She's slept with other women, with multiple people at once, even did it for coin..."

"Do ya honestly feel disgusted at that? As if any of the ladies you've picked up in every tavern across Skyrim were any better. What's different 'bout Isobel that condemns her and not them?"

"Because all those other ladies never knew me!" This time Brynjolf's voice had raised loud enough to create an echo. He quickly turned around and scanned the Flagon around them, praying no one was still hanging around. He couldn't see anybody, but he still felt beyond paranoid and ran his hand through his hair anxiously. "After everything life has taught me I still was played by a woman!" He tried to be quieter, but what he strained to keep a whisper came out more like a snarl. "I thought she gave a shit about me, and she didn't!"

"Did she seem that way the other night?" Delvin asked. Brynjolf's head snapped to him, shock on his face.

"Were you there?" He asked, but Delvin merely scoffed in bemusement.

"It crossed my mind to follow ya, but my sneakin' days are long gone boy, ya could hear my old bones crack a league away. Still, it don't take summonin' Hermaeus Mora to figure out you two more than likely had a confrontation. This is where she told ya all her secrets, hm? And I'm guessin' ya told her 'bout your dear mum and 'bout Gallus and-"

Brynjolf slammed his fist on the weak wood of the bar top.

"Brynjolf! For Oblivion's sake stop actin' like a fool!" Delvin shouted to match Brynjolf's growing temper. "Can't ya remember what Isobel was like before all this? Can't ya remember all those trainin' sessions were she fought ya no matter how many times ya beat her down, or the look on her face when she gave ya Ulfric's amulet...?"

Brynjolf did remember. He could never forget those bright eyes staring up at him in hope of praise and triumph, her thrilled voice saying "Brynjolf, look what I got for _you_..." Then he remembered the way they laughed and cackled on her bed like children later that same night.

Then it was that fleeting moment in the bath room, where Isobel healed herself after Goldenglow and the tender way she wiped his cheek. Then it was her obvious and very active jealousy in Whiterun, and the sad look on her face as she finally let him go and have a night with Ysolda. Then it was her talk of love by the camp fire, her genuine but not intrusive curiosity about him, her healing his sore legs...

And then the way she braced to protect _him_ from the thundering Thu'um...

" _Fine_ Delvin, _fine_! I was fond of her, I'm _still_ fond of her!"" Brynjolf finally cracked. He had never said such a heavy statement in his entire life. Even the words felt physically heavy, like his tongue had to work substantially harder to push them up and out of his mouth. "Even though she's so young, even though she's going to leave Skyrim, even after what happened to Gallus... I still was touched by her in a way no other woman has before, and I was too weak to fight it off..."

"You're still fightin' it pretty damn strong if ya ask me." Delvin said quietly.

"It's not like I don't want her back, but after the other night... I can't get these images out of my head of her doing all those _things_." Brynjolf put his face in his hands, as if to block out whatever visuals of vulgar sex and carnal pleasure were plaguing his mind. "I'm not sure I could ever kiss her again knowing all the places her mouth as been."

"Ya have no bloody idea how irritatin' and excitin' it is hearin' the Bedroom Bandit say that." Delvin was smiling slightly, as if Brynjolf's hypocritical statement was actually a healthy, profound confession. "So why do ya feel that way? Do ya honestly still feel she doesn't see ya in a way she hasn't with other men and women...?"

Brynjolf shook his head, the fog in his mind gradually lifting as he finally acknowledged that Isobel was beyond being genuine when she sobbed to him that she hadn't felt anything like him before. The realization made him feel panicked and ashamed.

"Well what then, are ya intimidated by her or somethin'? Thinkin' she's done more than ya or whatnot?"

"Nay, I just have no idea why a lass like her would ever choose me... I'm an old thief with no real lust for life anymore, I can't give her all the things she's done before... what in Oblivion does she see in me?"

Delvin sighed deeply.

"Brynjolf, I've know ya since ya were a stupid, beaten down young man. I was there when ya read your first sentence, I was there when ya picked your first pocket, when ya won your first spar against Mercer. And I was unfortunate enough to walk into your first... sexual debut." Brynjolf had to fight hard to keep a smile creeping up on his face, but the memory was too unforgettable and bizarre to not release a few snickers. Delvin took pride in finally being able to crack the red-head's moroseness before he continued on slowly.

"And I was also there when ya struggled with the insecurities your mother ingrained into ya, I was there when ya had to deal with killing your first man, and we both mourned Gallus together." Delvin put a strong hand on Brynjolf's broad shoulder. "You're the closest thing I'll ever get to a son, and I'll be fucked if I let ya make the same mistakes I have..."

There was a sadness in those words, and an utterly perplexed Brynjolf saw shadows of rue and remorse flicker in the depths of the old man's eyes. It took yet another long moment for Brynjolf to remember Delvin's softness for Vex.

Everyone had a penchant for Vex, she was gorgeous, talented and tough. Brynjolf had his time with her himself, along with a lot of men that knew her when she wasn't the broken veteran she was today. Brynjolf had forgotten about how her sense of humor was dry and sarcastic, how her laugh was more of a snigger, how she still held an aggressive code for looking out for her own.

And Delvin had fallen hard for her, harder than the rest of the boys. Even when she slept with myriad another men, even when she blatantly and rudely rejected him, he never gave up.

And it wasn't until one night that a wounded and furious Vex stumbled into Riften that she finally saw Delvin's true care for her. He must've said something right as he bandaged her and had the thief she was sharing a job with "taken care of" after violently setting her up for a lifetime sentence in the Castle Dour dungeons, for the two shared a room at the Bee and Barb that night.

Brynjolf never knew what actually happened between them, but as soon as they returned to the cistern in the morning the two rarely spoke to each other, and Delvin had ceased all his efforts to court her.

"What happened that night, Delv? Between you and Vex?"

"We woke up." Delvin shrugged glumly. "We woke up in the morning and I saw how... pure, she looked?" He ended in a question, although asking Brynjolf if "pure" was an appropriate adjective for Vex. Which it wasn't. "I mean, I knew she was like me in my prime... well actually I was a lot worse, and I could see all the things she had yet to experience and see. She was so young and I wanted somethin' with more commitment. If we continued a relationship, I would tie her down. And it would only result in _my_ heart gettin' broken... so instead I broke hers."

Delvin leaned in closer to Brynjolf, speaking in a hushed tone.

"The biggest sham I've ever told in my entire deceitful, dishonest shoddy life, was the time I lied and told the woman I treasured that I didn't share her feelings of love..."

"I'm sorry, Delvin. I... Why didn't you seek her out again after you realized your were wrong?" Brynjolf swallowed, the whole tale was getting him emotional. He cared for both Vex and Delvin, and to finally know the truth of what happened that night well so long ago was heart wrenching.

"I was too proud and embarrassed to confess to her the truth of my actions. Eventually it became too late, she had already moved on." Delvin brushed his hand, as if the try and whisk away the mist forming in his eyes. "You have no idea how bloody tortuous it is watchin' her wilt away and become cold, and bein' too much of a coward to reach out to her again."

"Well by the gods, Delvin. Go back to her-"

"Men of our kind so rarely experience love Brynjolf, and rarer still know how to handle it." Delvin cut in. "We know how to lie, cheat and steal, not how to be honest and faithful to another human. Why, that goes against our very being, our very instinct. So I know exactly how all these... emotions feel wrong and foreign, they feel unnatural. But you of all people Brynjolf, deserve love. And that's the honest truth."

"A feeling that causes heartbreak, vulnerability and murder... Aye, I definitely deserve that."

"I don't blame ya for feelin' that way, Bryn. You've seen some awful shite, and I won't deny a large majority of relationships end that way, even the murder part. I was in the Dark Brotherhood for awhile, remember?" Delvin actually chuckled, his previous sadness disappearing concerningly fast. "Lovers killed each other all the time. But at the same time, the current leader of the Brotherhood is _married_. Her and her husband, assassins carryin' out the deeds of Sithis, actually took part of a Maran ritual and made a promise to the Goddess of Love and-" Delvin had burst out laughing again, as if the concept was downright hilarious. It was odd really, a couple who knew the darker sides of love and passion more than anyone going ahead and making vows.

"Ya said ya don't understand how someone like Isobel could ever see somethin' in your naff, borin' old ass? That she should be out with other debasers and lechers? Well, maybe she ain't lookin' for that anymore... maybe she's lookin' for a Brynjolf."


	29. About Falkreath's Bastard

10th of Evening Star

"I'm looking for a man named Brynjolf," Isobel asked the inn keep in Falkreath. "Lived here twenty-six years ago or so. Big Nord, red-hair, thick accent..."

The inn keeper leaned in closer to Isobel, her nose slightly scrunched.

"How old do I look to you? Twenty six years ago I was an infant in Cyrodiil, and I haven't made it a priority to memorize this dead town's history."

Dead town was right, the grave yard took up half the settlement. There was even a indiscernible gray haze throughout the streets as if mere colour seemed to die within its stone walls as well, the air so heavy and stagnant it was like breathing in rigor mortis.

"Well, do you know who _is_ old enough to know anything?"

The inn keeper's eyes darted somewhere behind Isobel and she turned to see an aged man drinking alone across the quiet tavern, complete with white, balding hair and skin etched with wrinkles.

"There _is_ Dengeir the Stuhn, he was Jarl here for decades but now he's just a Thane." The inn keeper muttered as she returned to wiping the counter top. "I would avoid asking him too many questions. He's a little... _off_. Just tell him what he wants to hear to get him to relax, he'll forget it as soon as he hits the hay anyways."

"Thanks... Do you have anything to smoke?"

The fact that Isobel was about to learn more and likely heartbreaking truths about Brynjolf was making her jittery. She had ditched Thrynn and Etienne at the camp they made well outside the town in the surrounding pine forests, in some dome shaped roadside ruin that Thrynn had used plenty of times before. Isobel had said she wanted to scout the town before they went to break out Sapphire after dark. Thrynn was more than over-ambitious to accompany her, but Isobel was even more stubborn and had to near _command_ him to keep an eye on the horses and Etienne, who was nattering nonstop about how Nordic shelters like the ones they had set up in were sometimes guarded by Spriggans.

It was simply a matter of meeting up by the lumber mill once the guards lit their torches. Which meant Isobel had very little time to get what she needed.

"Of course we've got dried, dead plants that make you die sooner. This is Falkreath, honey." The inn keeper pulled out a filthy wooden box filled with dusty tobacco. Isobel was happy to have even that. She'd probably inhale out of a dead smoker's blackened lung if she could, and as she made her way past the idle bard and languid tables of occupants her angst grew worse.

"Mind if I join you?" She sat down across from the old man before he even registered her question, lighting her hand-carved pipe and inhaling deeply. Dengeir's blue, clouded eyes squinted at the stranger seated before him.

"And just _who_ are _you_?" He demanded, his voice as cracked as the lines in his jowls and forehead. "I haven't seen you in this town before, how do I know you're not a spy?!"

"Because if I was a spy and wanted information I would've bought you a drink to loosen your tongue." Isobel reasoned sternly, not even curious as to why the old loon was so paranoid in the first place. "If I was a spy I'd wear a revealing dress that showed off my chest and shrouded your best judgement with lust."

"You're a woman?!" The old man exclaimed, leaning back and scanning her. Isobel's already droopy features fell lower as she sighed a cloud of smoke. Did she really look that awful?

"Yes, and I'm looking for a man." She continued forcefully, trying to shrug off the offense. "He lived here a long time ago, does the name _Brynjolf_ ring any bells...?"

Dengeir frowned and scratched his beard, Isobel waiting impatiently.

"Aye, it does. Can't place a face though. What's he look like?"

"Well, he's a Nord. He's got red hair and freckles-"

"Ahah!" Dengeir clapped and grinned, showing his stained teeth. "The bastard boy!"

Isobel finally smiled for the first time in days. At that exact moment another elderly man entered the tavern with a chilly draft, showing Isobel that the sky was darkening outside...

"Hey, Thadgeir! This boy here is talking about the bastard! That one with the red hair from years ago! What was his name...?" Dengeir looked back at Isobel.

"Brynjolf."

"Brynjolf! He's talking about Brynjolf!" Dengeir laughed at the scowl that morphed onto Thadgeir's face before pointing him out to Isobel as if she couldn't see him. "The scoundrel kept stealing my brother's chickens. The bloody coop would be open and empty one morning and the hens would all be clucking in the bastard's yard, not even hidden!"

"That's not funny, Dengeir." Thadgeir frowned as he walked over and stood by their table, not even sitting down. "They weren't just _my_ chickens, they were _ours._ We lost a lot of good eggs because of that kid. Even when I put them in cages and locked them up he picked the damn thing open and stole them."

"You made it a bloody game for him Thad, every time you upped the ante it made it all the more appealing to him." Dengier leaned back over to Isobel. "I kept telling him and telling him that if he just kept the damn chickens out in the open the bastard wouldn't take them anymore!"

"And you're the only Jarl in history to let a scamp steal his hens and not send him to jail!"

"How old was he when he did this?" Isobel actually laughed. Children stealing was always endearing to her, but apparently knowing them as adults made their criminal antics all the more delightful.

"About nine or ten when he started. Happened about once every few months all the way up until the bugger left. Good riddance, I say." Thadgier huffed, still towering over the table. "It wasn't just hens he stole, he kept nicking from shops too, or if a trading caravan came through he'd always take something off them. He never took things that were just left out, like offerings in the graveyard or a forgotten handbag, the guards tried baiting him for years but no one ever _actually_ caught him red-handed. Things just disappeared when he was around."

"And for years and years he sang some dumb song he made up. You'd hear him all the time singing from somewhere you couldn't see..." Dengier's cracking voice started to hitch into a cheery melody.

"Run around the big, fat nanny,

Sittin' on her big, fat fanny!

Im'ma make her spick and spanny,

And this is how I'll do it!"

"Please stop, Dengier..." Thadgeir said dangerously.

" _Bah bah bah_ , I'll pluck the whiskers off her chin-"

"Dengier."

" _Bah bah bah_ , and if she tries to bite my shin-"

"Denier!"

" _Bah bah bah_ , I'll poke her with a sewing pin-"

"DENGIER!"

"Oh, now what will I tell mother!?"

The laughter that rang from Isobel felt strange. It was  hysterical watching the arguing brothers capture the attention of the tavern, the bard already trying to find the chords on his lute to the ridiculous song. But there was still an underlying trouble that was preventing her from really enjoying Brynjolf's anecdotes. She knew things were going to turn painful soon.

"Now, why is a strange girl like yourself looking for a boy what lived here before you were even born?" Thadgier spoke over his brother, solidifying Isobel's worry.

"He's a girl?!" Dengier asked stupendously yet again.

"I have reason to believe he's my father. I'm looking for him." Wisps of smoke swirled around Isobel's answer as it left her mouth.

"You don't look like him, you haven't got a drop of Nord blood in you." Thadgier frowned, and Dengier immediately started spitting out rambling accusations of Isobel being in a conspiracy against him. "Easy, brother. She's not a spy. She's a thief."

"Those are the same bloody things!" Dengier bellowed and every ounce of lying skill Isobel had had to come forward and strain to keep the shock and anger from showing on her features.

"You're right, Thadgier. I'm Brynjolf's apprentice, and I've come to steal your chickens." The indolent comment was humourless but it still made Thadgier chuckle and ease up, which consequently calmed Dengier.

"Well, whether you're his apprentice thief or his bastard child, both are entirely possible." Thadgeir finally sat down, leaning his elbows on the table. "It wasn't a secret that when he got drafted for the Great War he actually ran off and became involved with the Thieves Guild. He never came back here, but we definitely heard about him."

"In what ways?"

"Oh you know, a caravan hold-up here, a store heist there." Thadgier shrugged. "I hated the kid, and it was nice knowing he was giving other people Oblivion and not just us. I'd go to a different hold and there'd be his face staring out at me from some wanted poster, and it was so satisfying knowing he finally had his work cut out for him. The bastard had larceny in his very blood, he didn't just steal the things he needed, he stole things he merely wanted as well."

"What do you mean? What did he _need_ to steal?"

"Food mostly." Dengier said before Thadgier could answer. "Mother didn't like him a whole lot either, we know there was more than one occasion where he was denied supper... well, it was probably more like hundreds of occasions."

"Nobody knew where Brynjolf's mother came from, she just moved in here pregnant and bitter. No one ever found out who his father was, her kin never came by. I'm guessing poor Rona was rejected by her family for whatever reason, maybe for becoming with child before wedlock. Or she was running from the man who impregnated her, we have no idea. All we know is that she hated that boy."

"Her name was Rona?" Isobel nearly whispered, feeling sick to her stomach as she recalled Brynjolf's furious recollection of his mother. She pushed the memory of that night as far from her mind as she could. "Where is she now?"

"Fifth row, fourth column in the west section of the cemetery." Thadgier made a little half-smile as he continued. "The old crone died from a pox and didn't have the money for medicine. Folks say it was Brynjolf who took her money, thus damning poor Rona to an early grave. "

"Oh, poor lady Rona..." Dengeir raised his tankard sarcastically.

"She's gone and now we don't even hear of the bastard anymore. They say the Thieves Guild has gone under, so I'm betting he's in prison without his cronies to break him out... He wouldn't be dead, he's too stubborn to die-"

Isobel's undivided attention was ripped off Thadgier as the door opened behind him, showing a positively _ecstatic_ Etienne. Isobel nearly bolted out of her chair, already conjuring a list of excuses she could tell her fellow thief for chatting in a pub instead of scouting. But he merely beamed and gestured for her to come outside.

"So, to Riften I go?" Isobel blurted. "To whatever remains of the Thieves Guild?"

"Aye." Thadgier smirked, almost knowingly, as Dengier sat as clueless as ever. "That'll be your next step."

She thanked them earnestly before briskly speeding out the door. Etienne was already waiting on the other side, grinning as if he held a secret.

"I've got a surprise for you." He was practically singing, it made Isobel regress further and further into her previous brooding state. Nervously she chewed on the bit of her pipe. 

"What is it, Etienne?" Isobel mumbled, but he simply snatched her hand and wordlessly guided her to the other side of the inn.

As Etienne urged her on Isobel could make out a cloaked figure standing in the shadows beneath a pine tree, and suddenly her anxiety multiplied. How much did he know of her preoccupation of Brynjolf? Did he know about their falling out in the Ratways? Who was this eerie silhouette? Already her mind was plagued horrifying images of Brynjolf waiting underneath the hood, or the ghost of Rona Etienne summoned through some tome somehow.

But when Etienne pulled down the hood he revealed Sapphire's signature scowl, her expression as mean as ever.

"A couple of Calm spells on the guards and I got them to even open her jail cell for me!" Etienne laughed, proud of his handy work. Isobel gave him as big a smile as she could muster, knowing it was her lessons that enabled him to do an independent jail break.

"You're amazing, Etienne. Good work." Isobel shook his shoulder firmly, making sure he knew she _was_ really proud of him.

"Can we go now?" Sapphire hissed impatiently.


	30. Feeling Something New

The firelight glowing within the roadside ruins and its promise of warmth did little to ease Isobel. As her, Etienne, and Sapphire entered the central alcove she slumped under the weight of the sleepy, tranquil atmosphere, and she didn't trust it.

Both Thrynn and Etienne's tent and the one Isobel acquired through Shadr were all set up. The two horses were already fed and dozing, their tails still swishing as they slept, and the fire was burning wonderfully nearby. And Thrynn was by the hearth, inspecting the gleaming sword in his lap. He didn't look surprised at Sapphire, so he must've known why Etienne had left him.

Isobel didn't allow the awkward silence among them to make her feel ill-at-ease. She merely sighed and knelt down by the fire, trying to soak up its heat into her stiff fingers. Wordlessly Thrynn tossed Isobel her ration of stockfish, and just as silently she dug into it.

She was too tired and cold to try and initiate conversation, if Thrynn, Sapphire or Etienne felt uncomfortable they'd have to deal with it themselves. All Isobel wanted to do was replay what the men at the inn had told her, so as she worked down the dried salmon and stared at the flickering flames she indulged herself with images of a young Brynjolf.

Of a red-headed rapscallion sneaking through houses at night with a clucking hen in his arms. Of guards setting up traps as they would for an animal while the rascal watched from a distance. She found herself pondering menial things... how his Nordic accent would sound coming from a boy instead of a man, when he might've started growing his first facial hairs, if he had a sweetheart within the town or a best friend. And if there really was a time where he would sing openly...

"Run around the big, fat nanny.

Sitting on her big, fat fanny.

Im'ma make her spick and spanny,

And this is how I'll-"

Isobel did a double take when she noticed the group was staring at her, and immediately she felt her cheeks burn. Singing and humming without inhibition was something she did constantly back home in Cyrodiil, but with the cold gaze from Sapphire staring at her over the flames, along with Thrynn's unnerving, yearning one, she couldn't help but curl in towards herself. Even the horses had lifted their weary eyes to look at her.

Etienne seemed ruffled as well, looking from each glum person around the fire and speaking forward.

"No, keep singing Isobel. It's way too quiet-"

"I'm not going to sing." Isobel scoffed at herself, she never thought she'd say those words.

"Well, do you want to hear _me_ sing a song? I know-"

" _Yes_ Etienne, sing us a song." Isobel interrupted harshly, if it would shift the unwanted attention off her she would do anything to keep him talking. When the two other Nords drew their gaze from her to the young man clearing his throat Isobel exhaled in relief, feeling marginally safer.

"I saw her from afar,

The first woman I loved

as she farmed by the barn.

And her hands dirty and worn,

this woman who's laboured

since the day I was born..."

Etienne had a good voice... an _amazing_ voice. Isobel looked up at him with the same surprise as the others. The song was slower, a ballad, but it still had that Nord folk flare to it that made it all the more beautiful. Etienne was even pronouncing a few words the way Nords did, the harder "R"s rolling off his tongue with his perfectly-controlled pitch. It instantly made Isobel's shoulders relax, leaning back she admired the black sky above them and the way the fire made their shadows dance around the stone walls.

"She'd said: 'Gods bless you and keep you my son,

You'll ne'er shine bright if you stay by your mum.

To the world you will show

So kiss me 'fore you go,

And may your feet always lead you

To a place you call home.'

Gray was her hair,

And haggard was her face

though she ne'er looked more fair.

Then she saw me from afar,

A wail from her lips

As she ran to my arms..."

As transfixed as she was, Isobel noticed Sapphire's shift immediately.

"She'd said: "Gods blessed you and kept you, my son.

You ne'er shone less bright as the years carried on-"

"I'll be right back. I need to take a piss." There was a strained crack underneath the words. Quickly Sapphire bolted up, out and around the dome with her cloak billowing behind her. Etienne stood up as well, calling out for her to wait as he made to follow her.

"No, let her go." Isobel raised and put her hand out to stop Etienne.

"C'mon, she's not _actually_ going to go piss. She's upset, we can't just let her run away-"

"I'll go find her. Just give her a moment alone."

"Was it my song? Did my song upset her?"

"Yes. It probably was." Isobel admitted, gripping the distraught Etienne's shoulder. "Etienne, it was beautiful... it's possible it just made her emotional."

"This is forest is _far_ from being safe at night." Thrynn cut in, Isobel hadn't noticed that he was arming himself. "I'll come with you Issy, that way-"

"Sapphire may not respond as warmingly as I would like her to if a former bandit was present." Isobel spoke, and she could tell Thrynn was taken aback by both her tone and her rationality. "Stay here with Etienne and guard the camp... _Thrynn_."

At the sound of his name he shut his mouth. Isobel didn't have her usual level of empathy to react to his wounded expression and simply turned to exit their camp. She knew a confrontation between them was inevitable, but right now was _not_ the time. Sapphire had to come first.

Isobel had to invoke a small flame in her hand as soon as she stepped into the wilderness, both for light and for warmth. The air was so brisk no bugs were out, so cold that everything among the pines remained still and frozen. She strained to hear anything, human or not, but there was nothing except the crunch of snow under her boots as she crept through the maze of tree trunks and rocky crags, trying to pinpoint where Sapphire could have possibly gone.

_'Oh gods, I hope I don't walk in on her actually relieving herself...'_

But before the thought had passed through her mind she heard a sniff, and raised her flaming hand in its direction. There sat Sapphire with her back to her on a large slab of stone. She felt the firelight behind her and turned only to become fractious at the sight of Isobel.

"Are you _fucking serious_?" She spat. Isobel could tell her eyes were still fresh with tears.

"Mhm." Isobel replied simply, making Sapphire more irritated.

"Well _go_ , I'll be back soon."

"I'm not letting you stay out here by yourself, it's too dangerous. Let whatever is hurting you out and then we'll go back." Isobel's blazing hand was still poised and shining a spotlight onto Sapphire, accentuating the contours in her face as she snarled.

" _Leave me alone."_

Isobel merely remained on her spot, waiting patiently.

"Look, I don't really know you. I don't even really know Thrynn or Etienne either... Why do you care anyway? It's not like we're family."

"I already know about what happened with your family, what happened with the bandits. I'm not going to stand here and play dumb and ask you to tell me what I already know." Isobel could practically feel the shock pulse off Sapphire. "I imagine that's why Etienne's song of motherly love upset you..."

Isobel was waiting for Sapphire to cut her off, for her to push back, but her expression actually softened.

"And I know about what happened with your family too, what happened with the bandits... And here _I'm_ the one crying like a bloody _milk-drinker_."

"I imagine your... orphaning took place a lot more recently than mine." Isobel approached the woman and sat by her side, the conjured flame between them heating the night air that was nipping at Sapphire's wet cheeks. "And I wasn't taken captive."

"Alright, I'll tell you." She half-sobbed half-hissed. "I'll tell you about the time I was a young girl, barely out of her teens... living on a pig farm in the middle of nowhere. Didn't have a coin to spend between our entire family, we ate the same slop we fed our livestock."

Isobel was trying to slip on her defenses as much as she could. Sapphire didn't need someone to cry for her, she needed a support, and there was no way Isobel was going to ask her to stop and tell her story another time, when she felt she could handle it. With all Isobel had gone through the last while she needed to bring together everything she had. Isobel imagined she was just as nervous as Sapphire was about the reveal of her past.

"That sounds horrible..."

"Oh wait, it gets much better." Sapphire jeered miserably. "How about the fact that our farm was attacked by bandits, and that they killed our entire family. All my siblings and my mother... who didn't even brandish a weapon against them. They took me as a prize and violated me for a fortnight. Tossed me from bandit to bandit like...like..."

"It's okay, Sapphire. You don't have to tell me anymore." Isobel dared herself to put her hand on Sapphire's trembling shoulder, but she just shook her head before more heartbreak poured out of her.

"It's just that... that overtime, I managed to gain their confidence. Then one night I grabbed a knife, waited until they fell asleep and cut their throats... one by one. I've never been the same since, I don't know what's actually me anymore. I don't know who I am." Sapphire leaned into Isobel's touch, and Isobel finally felt it. That dreaded sting of tears behind her eyes.

Sapphie was trusting Isobel, was being so completely open, and Isobel cursed herself for trying to take on more sad stories that she could handle. Isobel's audible sniffle cued Sapphire to finally break down and start sobbing, wrapping her arms around herself as Isobel embraced her also... and soon Isobel wasn't just crying about Sapphire's heart-wrenching past... soon she was crying about _everything_.

She was crying about Brynjolf, about the harrowing childhood he was thrown into and the way she hurt him so severely... She cried about putting Vipir into danger and leaving him in jail... She wept over her homesickness, her brother, the slaughter of her birth family, her painful integration into the Cyrodillic Thieves Guild... about who she all lost during her last assignment... Once it all started flooding out she couldn't control it.

"It's okay... It's going to be okay." Isobel tried to soothe both Sapphire and herself, stroking the long, brown hair that ran down Sapphire's back. "I... I can never imagine what you went through, I will never know what it's like to be you... but just know that I understand what it's like to loose people you love. I know what it's like to lose yourself."

They simply sat there for a few minutes, hugging and crying. Slowly they calmed down, their breathing becoming more regular and their racing emotions slowing. Then they started to laugh. That profound sense of peace that always follows a good cry was even more amplified due to the fact that it was shared with another human being, the burden of loneliness slowly lifting off both of them.

"We should head back to camp, before they start to worry." It was actually Sapphire who made the suggestion as she wiped her eyes.

"Yeah, we should." Isobel stood, respawning the fire in her hand before matching Sapphire's pace back to their site. In spite of everything, Isobel's step felt lighter, and she could feel it in Sapphire too, the two looking at each other occasionally and tittering at their over-the-top breakdown. Isobel couldn't remember the last time she had let herself cry over her past like that, let alone cry over her past and not feeling embarrassed afterwards.

However, she could make out Thrynn leaning in the threshold of the ruin, the fire behind him only making him a black silhouette. All peace seemed to vanish in that moment.

"You're back." He said softly, standing upright and moving to let the women in. "Etienne has already tucked into our tent so be quiet. Issy..." The voice was gruff, deep and gentle like the grip that clutched her hand. "I need to talk to you. _Alone_."

"It can wait until the morning."

" _No_ , this time you listen to me... Sapphire, the second tent is yours and Issy's tonight. Issy and I won't be long." Before she could stop him Thrynn pulled Isobel forcefully along. She managed to shoot one last reassuring gaze to Sapphire as she was dragged away.

"I _can't_ do this anymore." Thrynn whispered. The statement was everything wrong and strange to Isobel. It was subtle and needy.

Once they were within a safe distance from the ruins he let go of her, suddenly self-conscious. She could hardly see him due to the black shadows engulfing them, only the dim hue from their distant fire illuminated his strong features.

And she refused to light her hand. She rather they stay in darkness.

"What you just did for Sapphire was very nice." Thrynn started softly, moving over to lean on a tree closer to Isobel. Despite the short distance it created between them Isobel held her ground and looked up at him. She was still running on the high from her heart-to-heart with Sapphire, her nose was still running slightly and her eyes were puffy, and she was beyond frustrated at Thrynn for ruining the best she'd felt in a long while.

"It's one of the things I admire about you... your ability to balance ruthlessness and kindness." He tilted his face down and leaned closer to her, his earnest eyes not faltering against her own austere pair. "You are very special to me, Isobel..."

She hated it when people said her name in such an amorous way.

"And I suppose you're better for me than Brynjolf? That you could give me so much more?"

"I would _never_ hurt you the way Brynjolf did." Thrynn instantly bristled, even in the low light Isobel could see his distress. "Listen, I have spent _days_ listening to Etienne rationalize things out about what happened in Riften before you joined us and why you're so upset, and I think he's right. I know now whatever happened with you and Vipir was nothing, that you don't feel the same way about him than you do about Brynjolf, and I know the reason you've been so cold these past few days is because _something_ happened with him that broke you. He hurt you somehow, _again_. I have known Brynjolf years longer than you have. I know you are worth more to me than Brynjolf could ever value _anybody_ , can't you see that? And I am willing to follow you to Cyrodiil if it means you'll have me."

Isobel was already unstable from her talk with Sapphire, and it was all getting too heavy for her to handle. Professions of love were never easy to reject, but she usually never let it get this bad, she usually crushed unwanted advances before they could develop into something more. Now all the good memories she had of Thrynn were twisting into something bitter...

"Let me love you... Please." Thrynn stooped down and rested his forehead against hers. This was a bandit warrior. A man who should've been a mercenary instead of a thief. Who sported war paint and a bloodied sword at his hip, who once killed and pillaged and created orphans like Isobel and Sapphire. Even if she accepted his past and only based her eminent rejection on her own personal time knowing him, she could still never love him the way he wanted her to.

Thrynn pulled her closer and pressed his lips to her neck, a soft sound rumbling inside his throat as he wrapped his thick arms around her, embracing her from the cold night air. Isobel didn't react, she simply remained standing straight with her arms still crossed, she didn't pull away either...

Her well rehearsed body was telling her more was coming, no one ever kissed her neck unless clothes were coming off, and subconsciously her body was readying itself. Wanting to open up her throat fully for Thrynn, to reach for his belts, to fall into his lap and ride him against the pine tree they were up against...

Thrynn's hair was long enough that if she closed her eyes and ran her hands through it she could pretend it was red... She could fool herself into thinking Thrynn's grunts could be Brynjolf's. It was maddening, trying to control her impulse, the urge to drown her all the sorrow she was feeling in pleasure was making her physically shake...

But when Thrynn made his way up to kiss her lips she turned her head. When he opened his eyes Isobel's were glaring at him from the side.

"I don't love you, Thrynn. And no amount of kisses and promises are going to change that."

Thrynn pulled away from her, looking at her in disbelief as he gripped her shoulders, and Isobel held his gaze unwaveringly.

"Issy, you don't understand. I feel for you in a way I _never_ have before, I want to love you."

"Don't tell me what I do and do not understand." Isobel pushed his large hands from her shoulders. "And don't love me like this. You'll only tire yourself out."

A heavy scowl weighed down Thrynn's features as he turned away from her, bringing one of his rejected hands up to his face. Isobel marveled at herself. The last time she had felt the impulse for sex so powerfully she had caved and intentionally sought out Vipir, now she was withstanding it against someone who was actively trying to convince her to give in. It was incredibly bewildering.

"So, that's it then?" Thrynn asked bitterly, his voice tight with pain. "Nothing like letting one down easy."

"If I showed you any kindness during this discussion you would see it as a softness for you. I know this makes me a cold-blooded bitch, but if breaking your poor heart to pieces now will save us both time and energy, I'll suck it up and do it."

"This all just really makes me wonder which Isobel is the real one. The one who laughed, played music and gave a shit about others... or the one before me now that gives Vex a run for her money when it comes to heartlessness."

Isobel actually smiled, the whole accusation reminded her of another one of her grandfather's lessons.

_Laugh and the world laughs with you, weep and you weep alone..._

"I know I'm easier to love when I smile and play music, I'm so much prettier when I'm not hurting." Isobel turned away to walk back to the camp, ignoring Thrynn's confusion. "But my heart belongs to someone else..."

She bet she looked about twice as stunned as Thrynn did. Isobel never thought she'd say that combination of words in her entire life. The moment was monumental.

"Brynjolf isn't capable of love, I am!" Thrynn argued, and Isobel simply laughed. Thrynn did not know her well enough to love her. And although he very well could've been right about Brynjolf given his reaction towards Isobel in the Ratways, she was too ecstatic at both her resilience to Thrynn's advances and the realization that she, in a sense, was okay with actually _belonging_ to somebody to be upset anymore.

Whether Brynjolf could ever love her was still uncertain, all that Isobel knew was that she feeling something new, and that made her happy.

"Come on Thrynn, we've got a long day tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too bad Issy and Thrynn have like, a whole ass journey across Skyrim and a high profile Guild job to cooperate on still. Lol. Things maaaaaaaay get awkward.


	31. The Fleet Interrogated

16th of Evening Star

Brynjolf descended down the stairs into the Riften jail two at a time, the watchguard scrambling to open up the entrance as soon as he saw the Second in Command.

"Comin' to try and squeeze information out of the Fleet too, eh?"

Brynjolf could hear the guard's annoyance underneath his helm. Brynjolf didn't bother himself to answer, he merely pressed forward into the dungeons without slowing his step. He _was_ going to squeeze information out of Fleet. Until he was bloody satisfied.

Things at the Guild had definitely grow more intense since Isobel's disappearance. No one was given any jobs, Mercer had made finding Isobel the main objective, officially declaring her an enemy to the Guild that needed to be "taken care of." Without her there would be no reconcile with the Black-Briars, and without them they would officially become an extinct organization. So everything was poured into finding her.

Even Brynjolf had to admit he was terrified. He, along with so many others, had nowhere else to go if the Guild collapsed, and the chances of all of them being jailed or possibly even executed was extremely high. He didn't have a fathom of an idea of how he could protect both Isobel and his home, but he had to try. He owed both the lass and the Guild that much.

Everything rested on finding Isobel, and Brynjolf would do whatever it took to do so.

However, once Brynjolf found the dozing thief's cell and knocked on the iron bars mercilessly all bravado left him. Vipir looked awful.

The poor sod looked like he was dying, as he slowly and gingerly turned and looked in the direction of the rapping Brynjolf couldn't help but grimace. In his short period of incarceration his skin had already taken on a sickly pallor and he had lost a visible amount of weight, and his chest... his chest looked like it did after the dragon attack. Black, purple and yellow bruises blotched across his shaking torso, preventing the lad from sitting up straight and condemning him to be constantly hunched over.

"Damn me..." Vipir saw Brynjolf through the bars and buried his face in his hands, repeating his curse as he shook his head. "This isn't happening..."

"Vipir, I need some answers... about Isobel."

"No no no no no no. I rather see Mercer again than you."

The comment struck Brynjolf. Mercer was very open about the more physical interrogation methods he was using with the Fleet in order to coax out the whereabouts of the Imp, he supposed that's why he started to notice the other prisoners shift nervously as they watched him speak to the crippled Vipir. Why was _he_ more intimidating than a certain beating?

"I'm not going to hurt you, lad." Brynjolf spoke as soothingly as he could, albeit it still came out stressed and rushed. "I just need to know where Isobel is."

"I don't know, I don't know, _I don't know_. I have _no_ idea where she could've gone."

"You were one of the last people to talk to her, did she say _anything_."

"I told Mercer everything, I have nothing to hide!" Vipir looked up at Brynjolf exasperatedly. "Ask _him_!"

Mercer hadn't said anything to him or the other seniors.

"Then it shouldn't be a hassle for you to repeat it to me, Vipir... Come now, lad."

Vipir sighed heavily, and with agonizingly slow speed contrary to his nickname, he tried to push himself up to sit on the side of his cot.

"Look here, firstly I want to say I'm sorry... What happened between me and Isobel wasn't anything, I _promise_ you. She just had..."

Brynjolf's concentration left him, numb and motionless he had to fight to recollect his focus and push the images of Isobel and Vipir fucking out of his head. It was harder than it should've been, and took a fair amount of effort to come back into reality.

" _..._ I swear it's true, when I told her she just cried even harder."

Brynjolf didn't know how to fill in the blanks, he was still somewhat dazed as he struggled to swallow, so he simply resorted to pressing further.

"When she broke out of here, did she speak to you?"

"No Brynjolf, you didn't listen!" Vipir snapped, flashing a defiant glare up at the senior member. "Isobel is _crazy_ about you, she's actually going insane! Whatever is going on between you two is stirring things up in her, and I don't know how much you actually know about Isobel's past but she's been through some hard shit. I doubt you'd be any better at dealing with whatever is going on between you two if you were in her shoes."

The fact that Isobel didn't feel comfortable enough to disclose in him to the same extent as with Vipir made Brynjolf feel like even more of the villain, and Vipir seemed to notice his insecurity.

"It's not like she 'confided' in me the details of her life in Cyrodiil, they just sort of came up. It's what was so weird, she'd talk about horrible situations as if they were no big deal... as if they were just funny tavern stories."

"What sort of situations?"

"I don't know! Abuse, assault, being dragged into crime as a child! Isobel has her faults, a _lot_ of them, but she did bring a lot of joy to the Guild! And to _you_!" Vipir threw his hands up in defeat. He seemed to miss that Brynjolf was mostly in pursuit of her past rather than looking for more reasons to hate her. "Don't think the boys and I haven't noticed the way you two grew close together, especially after Whiterun. You actually laughing at a table with us and the way you looked-"

"Aye! Aye! I got it!" Brynjolf wasn't sure how much more he could take of people rubbing his happiness with Isobel in his face, between Vipir and Delvin he felt like he might explode if either of them listed one more sign that he was fond of her. He knew it already, he wasn't looking for reasons anymore, he was looking for locations.

"I really have to repeat myself when I said she started bawling like a pinched infant when I asked if he was in love with you..."

That seemed to punch Brynjolf in the chest quite well.

"Vipir, I _need_ to find her... Did she say anything to you before she left? Please." He was slowly stepping over the line of being downright desperate, feeling as if he would never be able to be at peace again if he didn't see Isobel at least one last time so he could apologize for everything. Vipir huffed in annoyance before he answered.

" _I already told Mercer_. She said she was just going to go 'take the heat' for everything and left me here so I could be 'safe.' She bribed Tabitha to sneak me healing potions too, but Mercer already put a stop to that."

"Wait... why did you need healing potions _before_ Mercer beat you?"

Vipir merely looked at him thunderstruck, his jaw hanging open slightly.

"Maul." He said plainly. "Do you not... do you not know what happened? Oh gods..." He brought his hands to cover his face again. "No wonder no one is outraged."

"Vipir, what happened?" Brynjolf asked firmly, an unsettling, eerie feeling was coagulating in his gut the more he realized he was not given all the proper information about that night.

"Well, we were still in the fishery, I was trying to calm down Issy and bring her back to the cistern when Maul caught us. He said something about how Issy... _owed_ him something..." Vipir was speaking painfully slowly, struggling to opt for the best choice of words. "I did manage to stop him in time, thank the gods, but... he did take Issy and tried to... have his way with her."

Brynjolf remembered the violent bruises around Isobel's neck and felt his knuckles go white as he clutched the iron bars. If visuals of her and Vipir were hard enough, imagining her trying to fight off Maul damn near made him start dry-heaving. He felt queasy just thinking about the concept of it, to think it actually almost happened made him feel a furious disgust he hadn't felt the likes of before.

Of course Isobel wasn't stupid enough to attack anybody who found out what happened between her and Vipir, Maul had just been clinging to whatever vague suggestion she told him months ago in exchange for information. Even when Brynjolf specifically told Maul on behalf of the Guild that her debt was paid, the son of a bitch had decided to go ahead and try to have her anyway.

This changed the current playing field between the Guild and the Black-Briar's completely. Brynjolf knew now that Mercer had been lying to him and the Guild, he was keeping Isobel's assault a secret, more than likely to keep her "posse" ignorant and docile. This also explained why Vipir was actually still in jail and why Mercer forbid the juniors from visiting him, Mercer needed the Fleet stay quiet. The door guard must've let Brynjolf in only because he assumed his authority granted him access.

"You... stopped Maul?" There was a tremor in Brynjolf's question that made Vipir stiffen and nod his head solemnly. "Then you can never, ever apologize to me again about whatever happened between you and Isobel. You have more than redeemed yourself to me."

"Truly?" Vipir straightened as much as he possibly could, looking at Brynjolf in disbelief. Brynjolf merely nodded his head, still too overwhelmed to cope with his new found information. He knew now what really happened with Isobel, Vipir and Maul that night, he knew now that Mercer was deceiving them, but he _still_ didn't know where Isobel had fled.

"Don't expect Mercer to be visiting you anymore, and I'll have whatever deal Isobel made with Tabitha and your potions continued." Brynjolf muttered, and when Vipir opened his mouth Brynjolf cut him off. "I owe you that much, lad... Thank you."

Brynjolf couldn't stick around, not with what just discovered, and was barely able to give the Fleet a proper farewell before he took off. He needed to find Delvin, between the two of them they could find a way to confront their Guild Master without serious backlash and hopefully reinforce their bond with the Black-Briars on account of Maul attacking Guild members and not the other way around.

His lockpicks and coin put a jiggle in his otherwise foreboding step as he strutted through Riften's dreary streets and towards the cemetery. He found it hard to remain cool and natural with such heavy feelings of betrayal in his heart, Mercer was harsh and unforgiving sure but always for the best interest of the Guild. He never let _serious_ harm come to the Guild or its members. And _definitely_ never kept Brynjolf and Delvin in the dark regarding such intense circumstances.

Brynjolf felt like the foundations of the Guild he was so rooted in were now shifting, his home and passion was falling apart and turning into something he couldn't recognize anymore. His sanctuary was now a strange land.

Shit like this wouldn't happen if Gallus was still alive.

When he whisked through the cistern and into the Ragged Flagon he found Delvin wasn't alone at his usual table... Sapphire was with him. A blanket draped over her shoulders.

"About time, Brynjolf." Mercer growled, sitting at a separate table a ways away. "Sapphire just arrived here an hour ago... says she has info she could only spill until _you_ were present." Brynjolf looked at Sapphire in shock, her usual sour face was now accented with apprehension and confusion as her blue eyes darted between the three men. She settled for staring at the wall behind Brynjolf instead of making eye contact with anyone.

"Isobel says she is safe and accompanying Etienne and Thrynn to Solitude, and that she will return once their job is complete."

Brynjolf collapsed into a nearby chair completely limp with relief while Mercer bolted upright from his own, causing it to fly backwards with a clatter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PLOT THICKENS
> 
> Now that my summer job is in full swing and I'm getting into a rhythm you can count of updates every Thursday! I also have started posting again on fanfiction, so if you're eager to see what Issy and Bryn get up to until the infamous fight in Irkngthand you can find the link in my profile. I'm really hoping to be finished this big boy this summer!  
> Thank you again for reading/leaving comments and kudos (☞ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞


	32. Not A Victim

Despite her lifestyle and lack of faith in... well, almost everything, Isobel loved temples. The high, vaulted ceilings, the swarms of flickering candles in the dark, the astringent incense that tickled her nostrils, and the way silence itself seemed to swell and echo against the stone walls.

"You should go. I know you're not actually praying, and I don't want to sit here and keep an eye on you forever."

Isobel slouched lower into her pew, her hood cast so far over her head it covered her face. Irritating voices seemed to resonate too.

"Piss off, Irene."

"I'm serious! Please go!" Irene had just seen her eighteenth summer, the same as Isobel, and both had lost their families at the same age as well. Isobel couldn't help but thank the deities on the stained windows for making sure she was taken in by criminals and not a gods damned priesthood.

"I need to repent."

"Yes, you certainly do. But I know that's never going to happen." Irene spoke briskly like she always did, as if she was being timed. Isobel could practically feel her harsh glare even under her hood, and could smell the lavender oils in her hair. As if they were hive minds Irene made a comment on Isobel's aroma. "I can smell the booze on you from here, you stink."

"Leave me alone."

"No! I won't stand having this sacred place ruined by people like you, I don't even how it's possible for someone like  _you_  to have so many suitors! It just goes to show how badly the world has gotten, that tavern whores are chased by more men than those who preserve themselves for them."

Irene continued on, Isobel had heard the spiel countless times already. How beautiful and romantic it was to give yourself fully to only one person, how losing your virginity should be a powerful experience, and that nothing repelled true love more than gaining carnal knowledge of so many. That even though men were more attracted to "girls like Isobel," "girls like Irene" would be the ones they would share a life with instead of only a night.

Isobel was downright offended the first time Irene pulled those "values" on her, calling Irene a prude whose cunt was probably drier than the Alik'r desert anyways. But after the third time she was able to block it out. The whole dialogue Irene dumped on her during her every visit to the Temple of Kvatch was as repetitive and unrelatable as the sermons held there every day.

To Irene, you were either a pure virgin or a shameless, shoddy whore. There was no in between.

"You just wait. Mara blesses everyone at least once in their life. You'll fall in love with someone someday and they won't have you because you've been tainted."

"How do you know Dibella hasn't already blessed me?"

"You cannot seriously compare what you do with the Dibellan covens! How dare-"

"Irene? Are you helping with prayer?"

Isobel looked under the brim of her hood and saw Gergio, the head priest, approaching their pew.

"Yes! She's just... she's just praying." Irene flushed.

"Irene has given me a lot to reflect upon. I... I just need to think... alone." Isobel sighed heavily, and Gergio smiled consolingly at the troubled young girl.

"Come, Irene. Leave the child in peace." Gergio offered his hand, which Irene accepted as he assisted her up. "Stay as long as you need, the doors are always open here." Isobel could see the clenched fists and tense shoulders of Irene as she stomped out of the cathedral, and had to fight back a smile.

"Thank you." Isobel said sincerely, finally rid of the acolyte's presence. "Thank you  _so_  much."

With that Gergio left, and when she heard the heavy oak doors to their living quarters shut with a thundering reverb she immediately stood.

She whistled as she approached the alcove of shrines, already reaching for the folded sack in one of her many pockets. Isobel continued her cheerful melody as she tapped her cheek thoughtfully, deciding which of the Divines held the most offerings. Stendarr... Akatosh... Arkay... the empty space where Talos used to be...

"Hello Mara Mother Mild." Isobel made her way over to the Mother-Goddess's small shrine. Of course the one who represented maternal love and compassion would be favoured.

Leaving coins, gems, precious crafts and plenty of other profitable trinkets unattended in a place with absolutely no security? How could the priests and monks be surprised regardless of their foolish belief that deep down all people were good? They were too trusting and naive, and it was only a matter of time before someone would take interest in free sellables, if Isobel didn't steal the offerings someone else inevitably would.

The priests were  _asking for it._

"I'll steal whatever I want,

I'll even steal in front of the eyes of Gods.

Take what I want and I'll never quit,

Tonight I'm making myself rich."

After the shrine was devoid of Mara's gifts, Isobel stopped her song and slowly gazed up, admiring the artistry of the stained glass image of the goddess above her. The moonlight shining through her cast beams of reds, greens and yellows in a vibrant burst where Isobel stood, the golden face of Mara in her scarlet halo looking down at her, her expression forlorn and tender. Despite being enraptured by the image, Isobel still heard a shuffle behind her and immediately bolted, not even looking to see who was approaching her until she heard his voice.

"Whoa there, Cock Shocker."

Isobel turned to see a smug Dunmer and fellow thief leaning on a nearby pillar.

"Well well, if it isn't muthsera Felvos. You think that nickname is pretty clever, do you?" Isobel jested, instantly relaxing at the sight of her friend. She hadn't seen him in months, the taller than average Dark Elf with ponytailed black hair was one she ran into rarely, and the time they did managed to share together was always enjoyable.

"It's what's everyone's talking about, I'm honestly surprised you're still so near to the damn place. You should be in the Imperial City, not wandering Kvatch." Felvos's scolding expression softened ever-so-slightly. "You are okay, are you? Was it really...did he...?"

Isobel pulled down her hood to reveal her horrifically cut hair. What was once always braided so intricately was now barely a few inches long with several bald spots from her poor barbering skills. She couldn't help but laugh at the Dunmer's raised eyebrows.

"I'm fine, Felvos. No need to worry." Isobel slowly sauntered over to the central altar, the circular stone table dedicated collectively to all Eight Divines. She sat up on its edge, keeping her bag of loot close as she eyed the beautiful details she was seated on.

"Sera," Felvos pressed grimly as he joined her side. "What parts of the rumors are true?"

"Some Nord in Chorrol was a little too rough with me." Isobel said absent-mindedly, distracted as she took out her thinnest blade and began to try levering the encrusted sapphires out of the solid stone altar. "I electrocuted him when he was asleep, and when I made a break for it out the window he grabbed one of my braids. I cut it off with a dagger before he could even yank it... needless to say I'm keeping my hair short from now on." The sapphires were wedged too deep, but it gave Isobel's hands something to do while she chatted.

"You do know the healers had to... remove it."

Isobel hid her surprise well, not a trace of it ebbing onto her face as she continued picking at the jewels. She hadn't heard anything about amputation.

"Well, at least now he won't bed anyone like he did from now on. It was rude." Isobel said unapologetically, and Felvos scoffed in amusement.

"Typical Isobel." He laid down on the altar, his blood red eyes reflecting the dimly lit chandelier above them. "Making a piss poor decision that nearly kills her, then finding an equally hazardous way out of whatever she bloody put herself in. Don't even  _try_  to tell me you couldn't tell he would be aggressive in bed, you're one of the best people readers I know... You did take something after, right? I'd hate for you to carry something of  _his_."

"Relax, Felvos. I took care of everything, Alec's Alembic has top-notch stuff right inside the back window. I'm stocked up for awhile and got an _orange_  to boot. I swear Alec has the rarest shit this side of the Nibens."

Felvos suddenly perked and leaned up on his elbow, unbuckling the belts around his amour and opening his jacket, revealing his gray torso. If Isobel had any shred of innocence left she would've blushed. She loved Dunmer bodies, always so sinewy and lithe, and she felt herself start to grin as she watched Felvos' boney hands undress himself, remembering how much she preferred his knobby-knuckled fingers compared to any soft hands.

"You don't even feel you need to woo me first now?"

"Shush sera, look what I have." Felvos reached into his inside jacket pocket as pulled out one of his famous cigars. Isobel's face took on another shade of excitement. He was the only one she knew who was able to make the damn things, whenever she tried rolling her own it fell apart and made a mess. Better yet, Felvos was a complete partisan and artist when it came to making his own original combinations of herbs and flavors, and the one he held in his hand looked special.

"Gold Coast tobacco and dragon's tongue laced with apple and moon sugar, all wrapped in a tobacco leaf I grew myself." Isobel could see the subtle look of pride on his Dunmeri features. "C'mon, let's go outside-"

"No, let's smoke it here, no one would notice over all the incense and candles. I like it in here, it's feels... cozy."

Felvos couldn't help but smile slightly as he lit his cigar with a lick of conjured flame. Isobel waited impatiently until he finished his first puff before handing it off to her, and as she breathed in she closed her eyes.

The dragon's tongue was spicy, kind of like cinnamon or cloves, and she couldn't imagine how hot and fiery it would be if the apple wasn't there to take to edge off, the smoke was harsh even then. Regardless, the sweet and spicy flavor was entirely unique to anything she'd tasted before, she couldn't pick up the taste of the moon sugar at all but could feel it's buzz.

"One would think your lungs would be as charred and blackened as those at the Red Year by the way you take that stuff in.".

"You don't inhale these into your lungs, sera.  _You're_  the one who taught me that." Isobel stuck out her tongue as she blew out her smoke, making Felvos only grin more.

"It's going to take me awhile to get used to your hair. You nearly look like a boy, you'll probably be more sought after by ladies until it grows back out."

Ladies? Women? How Isobel didn't think of approaching them was baffling. She had done so much with men, knew what she liked with them, but women were uncharted territory... maybe cutting her hair wasn't a bad thing after all.

"By Azura, I didn't plant a new idea in that twisted little head of yours, did I?" Felvos sighed, but Isobel merely leaned back on the altar, entranced with the way the smoke billowed and rose from her mouth. She was too busy trying to think of how she could ever bring a woman to bed with her to notice the coy way Felvos rolled over to her, plucking the cigar from her lips and giving her a mischievous look as he drew in another breath.

"Now, if sharing my exclusive new creation doesn't count as wooing I don't know what can."

Isobel suddenly found his lovely hand stroking her cheek.

"Really? In a church on top of an altar? Have you no shame?"

"Oh? And stealing from the gods isn't blasphemy? This altar isn't any softer than the bloody bed we shared last time."

"Just be gentle, I'm still a little sore from the last time." Isobel smirked, making sure the Dark Elf saw the tiny, crackling bolts on her wiggling finger tips.

"I won't make any promises." Felvos leered, and taking a deep inhale from his cigar, he lowered his thin lips onto Isobel's. His kisses always tasted so ashy and black, Isobel hardly even noticed when he blew his smoke into her open mouth, filling her with his breath as she sucked the last of his fumes and grazed her thumbs along his pointed ears.

She could feel Felvos's knee start to nudge open her legs, and after he eased himself into the space between them and was fully on top of her he put out his barely used cigar onto a sapphire by Isobel's head, coating it in ash until the cigar stopped smouldering, its wisps still wrapping around them in wraiths.

Fervos kissed Isobel deeper now that he was in a more comfortable position, starting to undo her straps with tantalizingly slow speed. There was an added flare of excitement due to the fact they were about to fuck in such a sacred area, and although the probability of being walked in on was slim because of the hour, it was still entirely possible.

The whole situation seemed strangely weird to Isobel, almost unsettling, and as Fervos grabbed her ass and pulled her against the desire growing in his pants she was fully reminded of what had actually happened in Chorrol the previous week.

The powerful Nord, more than twice her size and made of nothing but muscle, ramming into her from behind on the cheap bed they purchased at some inn. She was having her hair pulled until she could feel it being ripped out of her scalp, was being so hard thrusted into her head slammed into the headboard, and when she did fall over from the seer extent of his pounding he always picked her up and reentered her with an even higher drive of annoyance, covering her wailing mouth with his large hand.

He kept calling her "his bitch" the entire session.

He fell asleep moments after he finished, disregarding the bleeding young girl crying next to him and holding a glowing hand between her legs. She was beaten down, she felt fragile and vulnerable, all the feelings she hated most, and as her tears started to dry she slowly leaned up and gripped his emptied cock firmly with her hands, channeling her inner electricity.

Isobel's teeth bit Felvos's tongue as they clamped down at her new found grit. And with a strength she didn't know she even had she pushed him over, brandishing a dagger to his throat as she sat on his naked chest.

"Gah! You just bloody  _bit_  me-"

Isobel registered a sharp shock to his chest as another cry echoed throughout the otherwise silent chapel.

"Felvos, do you feel bad for me!?"

"What?!"

"Do you pity me!?" Isobel pressed her dagger down harder when he failed to answer.

"Isobel, you were just abused by a damn s'wit, of course I feel for you! What is with-" He was cut off a second time as Isobel shouted over him.

"I am _not_ abused, I am _not_ damaged, and I am  _not a victim_!" Felvos was trying to cover her mouth, trying to mute her yelling.

The objectifying title of "my bitch" the Nord gave her as he fucked her like a dog would his own replayed in her ears. And when she looked down at Felvos and his bewildered, angry face, she felt the overwhelming sensation of deciphering an epiphany.

"I'll fuck whoever I want,

I'll even fuck in front of the eyes of gods.

Take what I want and I'll never quit..."

She was done with being pitied. She was done with being bent over and made a fool out of.

"...Tonight I'm making _you_  my s'wit."

She hadn't even started to move towards Felvos's lips again before she was brashly tugged off. She yelped in surprise, powerful hands were pulling her arms behind her back, and a scream erupted from her when she looked up to see a Pentius Oculatus agent hook Felvos into a chokehold. One swift motion and his sword pierced through the Dark Elf's belly.

"Issy! Issy! What's wrong?!" And now hands were shaking her, and when Isobel bolted upright she hit her head against another's with a clear _clunk_.

"Get out of my head! Get out of my head!" She cried as she continued to slam the heel of her wrist into her temple repeatedly, trying to get the penumbras of soldiers out of her skull.

"Issy! What's going on?!" Etienne quickly found his bearings again and grabbed her thrashing wrists. It was still dark, the tent around them was completely swallowed by blackness. Isobel couldn't see Etienne's face, but she felt him looking at her. It still took her a few moments to sink back into reality before she could speak.

"I'm so stupid... how could anybody love me?"

"What?!" Etienne whispered harshly. "Issy, what are you talking about?!"

They were just approaching the outskirts of the Whiterun plains, the very lands her family's blood had seeped into, and from their camp they overlooked the frozen marshes and swamps of Hjaalmarch. Beyond that was the Dragon's Bridge over the Karth river, and beyond that was Solitude. It would still be days before they reached the capital, and Isobel found that she was only being held together by the thin thread of hope that they would soon be on the journey back to Riften. Back to Brynjolf.

"I'm just a whore, a thieving, lying whore... Gods, Etienne what is wrong with me?" Isobel felt Etienne was still gripping her trembling hands tightly, repulsion filling out her chest before she burst into tears. "I wish I was nicer! I wish I was pretty in a dress with long, shiny hair and painted lips! I wish I smelled nice! I wish I saved myself for him, he deserves so much more than I could ever give him-"

"Isobel, you're rambling! Who deserves more than you can give them?"

Isobel remembered Ysolda, the pure, fair maiden that Brynjolf bedded in Whiterun and saw the similarities between her and Irene. The filthy grime that seemed to clog her heart made it hard for Isobel to breath, every cavity in her cavernous soul just reminded her how rotted she actually was, how strong her facade must be in order to fool so many let alone herself. She was beyond help. Beyond help and unworthy of something as wonderful as love.

And Irene was right.

"I'm so selfish..."

"No you're not!" Etienne nearly shouted, so earnestly it made Isobel want to punch him. Instead she shook her hands free from his grip and proceeded to wipe her nose noisily on her sleeve. He saw her pain and gripped her shoulders. "Who was the one who wanted to break Sapphire out of prison?"

"I went to Falkreath to learn more about Brynjolf."

"And you still went to go find Sapphire after my song, when she needed somebody. You helped her." Etienne reminded firmly. "You also patiently taught me and Cynric how to cast spells, you brought everyone from the cistern to the Flagon, you played music for us and made us laugh, you brought the Guild closer together than ever... I mean, as long as I've been there at least." When Isobel continued rocking back and forth and hugging herself Etienne continued. "You also healed Rune and Vipir after that  _dragon_. A dragon, Isobel! You charged at a dragon! Then when you were being chased through the  _Palace of Kings_  you  _still_ got oils for Vipir! Isobel, come on, I know we're criminals and all, but it's not like you kill people."

The comment jarred Isobel and made her cease her gentle swaying. Cyrodiil and its soldiers flashed again in her mind.

"You... haven't killed anybody, right Issy?"

"Not directly."

"What do you mean?" Etienne was getting nervous. She could tell, and his response made her feel even more evil.

"Well... I've broken murderers out of jail countless times, so in a way I'm responsible for the victims they claimed once they were free." Isobel mumbled and Etienne swallowed, he obviously had never thought about their line of work that way. "I've aided in skooma operations since I was little and we all know how that stuff destroys so many lives. I've framed innocent people who I found out were shived in the gut in prison or worse, I've robbed people into poverty and blah blah blah."

"How do you deal with all that? Don't you feel bad?"

"No." Isobel stated sternly. She couldn't. She wasn't allowed.

"But you're so kindhearted to everyone in the Guild-"

"I do have some scruples, Etienne. I don't hurt my own." Isobel hissed, growing more and more frustrated.

"But your grandfather's lesson about love? That the greatest power-"

"The greatest _power_ , Etienne.  _Power_. It's the surest way to control and fool people... Don't look so appalled Etienne, we  _aren't_  good people."

"Hey, just... just because I steal doesn't mean I'm not a good person! I don't ever steal from people who can't afford it, I never stole anything I didn't need before I joined the Guild, and I would  _never_ rob a person completely blind or do a job I didn't feel comfortable with."

Isobel buried her face in her hands. She had to control herself for not losing it on Etienne as she had on so many other thieves like him. It was such bad timing, to discuss morals when she was already unraveling at the seams, and yet she couldn't hold her tongue, Quentin was making it wag for her.

"I take it you've never done a job for Maven then?" She muttered, feeling her first mentor's haughty disciplines step forth from the shadows inside her.

"Well, yeah... Everyone in the Guild has."

"So while you'd never harm what would be a 'poor family,' you'd still aid a notoriously corrupt woman who's only ambition is to step on the lower-class through violence and manipulation for her own personal gain?"

She was so weary of white-knight thieves already, Quentin had warned her of them and she had seen enough to last a lifetime, they never stayed in her Guild long. It was simply the world she grew up in and had to adapt to, and even though she couldn't backstab her friends or family if her life depended on it, she was taught not to hold herself above being deceitful or unfair. It was a never-ending act of juggling both her grandfather's principles and her Guild's, being loving and happy and ruthless and cruel.

When was fourteen she argued against stealing an old man's family heirloom for a revengeful client and got back handed so hard her lip split.

"If you want to keep that 'steal from the rich to give to the poor' mentality, if that somehow helps you sleep better at night and makes you feel more justified, fine. But don't forget what you actually are." Quentin's words came out more harsh than she intended and made Etienne even more hurt and fragile. Isobel immediately felt awful and opened her mouth to apologize when he cut her off.

"So hiding behind drink and sex from your problems isn't to comfort yourself and forget who you are?" Etienne snapped, and Isobel nearly reeled back at the comment.

"That's entirely different-"

"How?"

"Because... because I don't..."

"It's not, Isobel." Etienne interrupted softly. "We  _both_  lie to ourselves."

Isobel's eyes watered up again, wiping the tears away before they could fall.

"I'm sorry, Etienne...I shouldn't have said anything. I was... You're not a bad person, not in the slightest."

"It's okay, Issy. I forgive you." He squeezed her hand firmly, and Isobel smiled and squeezed back. Being forgiven was a luxury she was rarely given, and it never ceased feeling marvelous. "I just wish you'd stop hurting yourself." She couldn't see his face but knew his expression was of genuine worry, and it made Isobel feel more sad than comforted. "Issy, is there something about sex that lifts up your spirits?"

"Have you ever  _had_ sex?" She snickered tearfully. When Etienne simply remained silent she sobered up. "Wait... have you?"

"Yes." Etienne blurted rather too defensively.

"Etienne, it's okay if you haven't." Isobel used to feel bitterness towards virgins like Irene, who saved themselves or strayed away from carnal pleasures, but she quickly learned shaming them for choosing not to have sex wasn't all that different from shaming her for having it. She supposed it was because Irene and most others constantly berated her that she felt she needed to push back, but in reality, she couldn't really give two shits about anyone else's sex life. In all honestly, she was just insanely surprised the sweet Etienne hadn't been taken yet. His singing voice alone could land him a tavern full of women.

"I have, Isobel."

"Did you like it?" Isobel asked skeptically. "Why would you ask me if sex lifted my spirits? Did it not do that for you?"

Etienne took a long time to open his mouth in order to answer, but instead he shut it again and crawled back into his bedroll with a huff. Isobel simply remained sitting for a few moments, watching the curled up Breton, before she nestled back into her blankets. She had barely stopped shuffling around when Etienne spoke again.

"I laid with a woman once but nothing happened." He made it sound like he was the biggest disgrace to mankind. "I was barely able to get aroused."

"Well, do you think you're more attracted to... not women?" Isobel had to walk on egg shells. "I've been with other girls, it's not uncommon to be more inclined to be with the same gender." She felt Etienne shift but he still didn't turn around to face her.

"I am  _not_ into men. I just don't think I was with the right woman."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, nothing like trying to cope with trauma as a criminal teenager. Issy really is a trooper.  
> Thanks for the lovely comments on the last chapter, they really helped motivate me to write this past week <3


	33. Bitterness and Sacrifices

19th of Evening Star

Thrynn thought it was ironic how a city with such a name as "Solitude" was the busiest and most crowded settlement in all of Skyrim.

Of course, nearly half the population were Imperial soldiers, who wondered the streets and bazaars like regular civilians when not training at Castle Dour, which could be seen teeming over the market square. That and the fact that the New Life festival was just around the corner definitely added to the bustling atmosphere. Colourful banners zigzagged above the cobblestone streets and the elegant buildings, contrasting brightly against the snowflakes descending from the grey skies.

"Ouch!"

Thrynn turned to see Isobel limping slightly and glaring at large Nord passerby, and guessed the man had stepped on her foot. He grimaced faintly, after suffering her rejection in Falkreath's woods he had quite quickly developed a harsh bitterness towards her. He had also overheard her brief talk with Etienne in their tent a few nights ago, her nightmares had even woke him up, and her crying for who he knew was Brynjolf and her venomous talk of morals was pathetic.

Thrynn was finding emotions pertaining to Isobel could only be passionate and strong, and if he couldn't love her he had to sate his ardor for her with hatred. She simply wasn't the bright and clever girl he thought she was, there was something cold underneath her merry exterior. For that he felt like he had been cheated. He found he barely even cared when she suddenly paled and started shaking terribly while in Dragon's Bridge. It was certainly odd, but he couldn't care. It wasn't like Isobel wasn't prone to random bouts of dramatics.

"How are we going to find Gulum-Ei in all this?!" Isobel had to shout over the crowd.

"We'll start asking around taverns!" Thrynn yelled back.

"I could use a drink. Thinking about nothing beneath the ground under my feet is making me feel sick." Etienne was indeed looking ill. "I swear this place is just going to collapse into the ocean someday, like Winterhold. It's too big and heavy to ever possibly remain balanced up so high on a crumbling arch." Isobel walked up beside him and held his hand in her own, a faint green glow encircling their interlocked fingers. Instantly, the boy calmed down.

"It's okay, Etty." She soothed, and Thrynn audibly groaned. Friendship was something he was apparently unworthy of, and it was he who had to pave the way through the crowd for the two little Bretons to move through. They opted to first visit The Winking Skeever, mending their tired bodies with food and drink and watching the first patrons of the evening slowly roll in.

"Gods, check out the pickings around here..." Isobel eyed up a small group of well groomed men across the tavern, their jewelry heavy on their necks and gleaming in the candlelight. "I swear you could still swipe the silver spoon right from out of their mouths. Why is the Guild in  _Riften_  and not here?"

"Solitude has an Imperial army for security. Riften Guards couldn't find a bag of moon sugar if you nailed it to their helmets." Thrynn imagined the multicultural metropolis was what Isobel was most used to, living throughout Cryodiil and all. He wasn't ashamed to admit that even though he was more of a "roughing it in the woods" type of Nord, he held the cringe-worthy luxury of Solitude to much better esteem than Riften. The Cyrodiilic Guild was smart enough to keep their base inside the lucrative capital, no wonder they were swimming in septims.

"They even have Black-Briar mead up here!" Etienne exclaimed as he pondered over the menu, unable to resist reading even a scribbled list of food and prices.

"I wonder how Mallus is doing..." Isobel shook the snow out of her hair agitatedly, making it even more disheveled and wild. Thrynn tried to ignore the way his jaw clenched at the mention of yet another man on Isobel's lips before she suddenly perked at something behind him.. "...Hey, what does Gulum-Ei look like?"

Isobel nodded her head and Thrynn turned to look in the direction she gestured. There in a secluded table was an Argonian dining by himself. And he fit the description, green-yellow scales with a pair of curved horns atop his head.

"Let's go check him out." Thrynn grunted, plucking the menu from Etienne's hands as he stood from his seat. "C'mon, time to do our jobs."

The Argonian's golden eyes spotted them before they reached his table.

"So, what do we have here? Hmm, let me guess." The mocking twinkle in his gaze confirmed to the trio that he was the Argonian they were looking for. Thrynn had to refocus his thoughts to the actual goal of their mission and away from the fact that Isobel sat down right beside him across from their target, their shoulders nearly touching. "By your scent I'd say you three are from the Guild... but that can't be true, because I told Mercer a  _long_  time ago that I wouldn't deal with them anymore."

"We're here about Goldenglow Estate." Etienne spoke bluntly, still standing at the head of the table with his arms crossed.

"Oh, so you  _are_  from the Guild? Interesting, I didn't think I'd see another thief from there again, let alone three at once. Why, you must be half of what's left..."

"You're just that special." Thrynn rested his elbows on the table, wanting to make sure to display the corded muscles he knew got him the job in the first place. Gulum-Ei didn't seem to even notice Thrynn's brute strength and simply shrugged nonchalantly.

"I don't deal in land or property. Now, if you're looking for goods you've come to the right-" He stopped mid-sentence when Isobel reached over and ripped a solid chuck of venison from his plate using her bare hand, popping the morsel in her mouth and sucking the grease off her fingers. Etienne looked more shocked than Gulum-Ei did at her display, but Thrynn knew what she was doing. She was asserting dominance. Her professional poise was back.

"You can drop the act now,  _Gajul-Lei_." Isobel said after she swallowed, maintaining cool, deliberate eye contact with the Argonian. Gulum-Ei suddenly looked marginally nervous despite trying to keep up his suave facade. They were getting somewhere.

"Oh wait... did you say  _Goldenglow Estate_? My apologies. I'm sorry to say I know very little about that... bee farm, was it?"

"You acted as a broker for whoever  _tried_  to buy it from Maven. Isobel here put a stop to that arrangement and made Aringoth... reconsider his actions." There was a subtle smirk on Etienne's lips. "And we want to know who that buyer was."

"Maybe I do know the buyer, maybe I don't." Gulum-Ei hissed through his fangs as he glared at Etienne. "I can't be expected to remember every deal I handle."

"What will it take to identify the buyer?" Isobel was now moving in for the wine jug, choosing to ignore the selection of idle goblets on the table and instead opting to top up Gulum-Ei's half empty one before downing its entire contents.

"A lot more than the coercion of three Guild whelps." Gulum-Ei jeered, leaning on the table and meeting Isobel's stare. She raised her empty cup to him in a mock gesture of grace before she placed it down and made way to his plate again, only this time Gulum-Ei's webbed fingers caught her wrist. "And transparent theatrics is hardly intimidation, little lady. "

"Oh, I think you'll find my theatrics can get very,  _very_  real." Isobel shot back curtly. The two sat frozen, Isobel not resisting the clammy hand that still clasped her wrist and Gulum-Ei thinking furiously.

"You want to know truths, hm?" Gulum-Ei snarled, looking at each thief menacingly before he released Isobel from his grip. "I was approached by a woman who wanted me to act as the broker for something big. She flashed a bag of gold in my face and said all I that to do was pay Aringoth for the estate. So I brought him the coin and walked away with her copy of the deed. It was that simple."

"That simple?" Thrynn scoffed. "No name or anything?"

"In this business we rarely deal in names, our identity comes in how much coin we carry. Your kind should know that more than well."

"Did she say why she was doing this? Did we steal something of hers? Did we reject her? Did any of us scorn her some way?" Etienne inquired, looking far too curious and intrigued for such sinister information.

"I tend not to ask so many questions when I'm on the job, boy. You should do the same."

"You're lying to us." Isobel cut in, only for Gulum-Ei to slowly rise from his chair.

"I never said I had all the answers, little lady. A woman gave me money for the bee farm and I bought it for her, that is all you three have to go on from here. Now excuse me, I must be getting back to my shipments. I don't want any other offers and deals to pass me by."

Gulum-Ei obviously struggled to keep his walk cool and calm, and hit the doors too forcefully on the way out of the tavern.

"We have to shadow him." Isobel said instantly.

"You really think he's lying?"

"Yes."

"I do too." Etienne added. "I'll go pay for our dinner, let's go."

As much as Thrynn agreed about confronting the Argonian a second time, he still felt a throbbing irritation he knew would never cease when being stuck with Isobel. And when she turned to look at him, her big, blue eyes shining with anticipation, it made his stomach flip in anger. How could she ever smile at him knowing full well what she was doing to him?

She probably saw that question written on his face, for she promptly stopped beaming and turned away from him.

"Sorry." She mumbled.

* * *

"I'm sorry." Delvin muttered as he placed a firm hand on Brynjolf's shoulder. The two of them were leaning over the weathered rails of the Dryside boardwalk, Brynjolf's face concealed by his drapes of hair as he stared down into the canal. He didn't respond, for all Delvin knew he hadn't even heard him. He wouldn't blame the poor sod for not paying attention, they had just finished speaking to Mercer in Riftweald Manor...

"Brynjolf talked to the Fleet, not knowin' he was off limits, and he told of how Maul may have been the first to attack that night." Delvin had spoken for Brynjolf, knowing he was too distraught and anxious to keep a level head, and again, Delvin couldn't blame him. The concept of their leader deceiving them in such a way was difficult for even him to believe, yet so many pieces of that fateful evening in the fishery didn't add up, and Delvin feared what Vipir spoke of was true.

"Aye, he was." Mercer had replied indifferently. "Maul attacked first, the Fleet and the Imp made the mistake of fighting back."

Delvin could practically feel the heat pulsate off Bryn, who was standing a ways from the table and against the wall, and he couldn't help but be shocked himself, trying to choose his next words extra carefully.

"Why did ya hide this from us, Mercer? Issy and Vipir are our own... the Guild-"

"The Guild is falling apart, is what it is." Mercer interrupted, his usual bark coming back as he paced back and forth along the table. "And the Black-Briars are the only thing keeping us alive."

"Our code is that we do not hurt our own." Brynjolf started, watching his Guild Master strut in front of him.

"Whether you believe it or not I still honor that code, I'm just thinking of the bigger picture." Mercer retorted. "Maven has cut ties with us. That means if we get jailed we can't break out, that means that we get no jobs, that means we get no coin, that means we get even poorer and go extinct completely. Now what happens when we go extinct, Brynjolf? What will happen to all of us?"

"We go our separate ways, find work in other places..." It was obvious Brynjolf knew he was saying bullshit.

"No, we get executed. The bounties on each of our heads is heavy enough to place it on a chopping block. The only reason we aren't dead right now is because we still have a thread of influence from the Black-Briars. Is that clear? Now Delvin, what will happen if we hand the Imp over to the Black-Briars."

"They'll reconcile with us."

"Precisely. So you see, it's either we  _all_ die, the Imp included, or we give up  _one_  to keep on living." Mercer had stopped walking, now leaning with his hands on the table and looking at Brynjolf directly. "It's a sacrifice of one to save many."

"Then why did you keep it from us?" Brynjolf hissed, and Delvin immediately stepped in to try and extinguish any tension before it could start.

"Yeah boss, we would've had your back. There was no need to hide."

"Because I knew if word got to the Imp's posse what I'd be trying to stop would happen anyway. There would be fall out, and we'd crumble." Mercer answered. "And I didn't want the seniors speaking to the Fleet, knowing the Imp has also gotten through to  _some_  of them as well." Delvin felt his stomach drop. Mercer must've been paying attention to Bryn and Isobel's companionship, hell even Delvin could've been seen laughing and chatting with her.

"I do apologize." Mercer sighed heavily. "I will admit it is... unscrupulous to keep ones most trusted in the dark. I just didn't want to give any chance for the cracks in our family to spread further. But now I realize keeping my actions secret was counter-productive, judging by the looks on your two faces."

"Ya can trust us." Delvin spoke up, trying to eliminate any space for Brynjolf to join in the conversation further. "Ya don't have to keep us in the dark 'bout these things, we could've helped..."

"I'm glad you both understand... That I'm doing what's best for the Guild. That I don't want to lose all what _Gallus_  worked for."

Mercer had played the Gallus-card, and Delvin saw Brynjolf stand up from the wall.

"Aye, now Bryn and I must really get down to the Flagon 'fore they start wonderin' why we're gone. We won't tell anyone 'bout the... the situation." Delvin stood hastily, beckoning the furious Brynjolf to exit with him and leave the Guild Master's abode.

"Very well. Just remember..." Mercer spoke lowly. He looked Brynjolf dead in the eyes again, each holding contact fiercely. "The Imp gets harmed no matter what... we must sacrifice one to save many."

"Her name is Isobel." Brynjolf spat before he burst through the door, Delvin not even waiting to try to make up for his lip and rushing after him.

And now the two were looking down, down into the filthy frozen waters of the moats below them.

"Ya shouldn't have said anythin', Bryn. Now he knows there's somethin' between you two." Delvin spoke quietly.

"What can I do?" Brynjolf exhaled, his voice deadpan and tired. "How can I save both Isobel and the Guild?"

"I don't know... Mercer... Mercer has a valid point."

Steam blew from Brynjolf's mouth into the winter air as he let out a wounded huff, bending over to place his forehead on the rails as his shoulders quaked in fury.

"I can't let Isobel die. Send her back to Cyrodiil, send her back to whatever danger she was escaping there... I can live with knowing the lass at least had a chance. To let her die... by getting chewed by skeevers no less... I  _can't_ let that happen."

Delvin's mind raced with potential possibilities, his face scrunching into a frown as he thought as hard as his rusty mind could. To find a way to appease both the Black-Briars while ensuring Isobel's life had to be done somehow.

And as Brynjolf finally looked up at him, his eyes angry and scared, Delvin remembered the night Isobel returned from Windhelm, and how she exactly responded to Mercer's taunts. Maybe there was another person who had even more power than Maven that was in the "big picture" too...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooh. I wonder who will actually go back and try and figure out what's going on in Delvin's head. He's old but he hasn't lost his wit.  
> Scoundrel's Folly will be up next week!


	34. Scoundrel's Folly

"Three people can't shadow someone in such a high-security place and not get caught. This is foolish." Thrynn hissed.

"Just let me think!" Isobel whispered fiercely.

The moons and stars shone brightly in the sky, basking everything in pale light, it made following the Argonian to Solitude's marina stupidly difficult. And now Gulum-Ei had gone into the East Empire Company Warehouse, one of the largest shipping businesses in Tamriel, and the guard remaining post at the single and only entrance screamed " _no trespassers_." The three thieves were hiding within the safe confines of an empty customs office, the steady lapping of the Karth River below them sounding like a futile lullaby as they all thought furiously to themselves.

"I'll distract the guard. You two go in." Etienne stated quietly.

"No." Thrynn and Isobel answered in unison.

"Why? I'm quick enough that the guard won't be able to catch me, and Gulum-Ei was definitely more afraid of you two than me. You guys go ahead and meet me back at the Winking Skeever."

Thrynn saw Isobel look down and rub her face in embarrassment. Etienne had no idea what was going on between them, and he expected them to share a job as if they could work together seamlessly.

"Let's just do it." Isobel muttered. "We're wasting time, we could've lost him already."

Thrynn felt a pit in his stomach. He grunted in agreement, feeling nothing less than complete and total reluctance. To say he was unprepared to work side-by-side with his recent heart breaker was an understatement.

"Okay, I'm trying to assault you Issy, get ready to scream." Etienne whispered, and Isobel failed to hold in her snort.

" _You_  committing assault? That's like saying-"

Etienne grabbed her and threw her onto the swaying docks outside their stall, Isobel hitting the solid wood surprisingly hard. She didn't waste any time pumping up her acting abilities, her screech must've bounced off the river's surface for leagues.

" _HELP ME_!"

Thrynn had no idea what to do. So far the improvised plan had involved Issy and Etienne and he was not given any direction, and Isobel's hysterics were making him feel panicked as he fumbled back further into some boxes and crates with a clatter.

Etienne had taken off quick as a hare, simply a black blur flying under the dock lanterns and towards the stairway back up to solid ground. Thrynn could hear the thumping of the guard's heavy boots before he appeared at the wailing Isobel's side.

"Ma'am?! What's happened?!" Isobel's fit was making him just as frantically clueless as Thrynn as he struggled to make sense of her.

"Get him! Get him before he gets away! Please!" The words were barely legible over her exaggerated crying as Isobel clutched the guard's collar, shaking and looking up at him through wild eyes.

"Ma'am, I-"

_"Go!"_  The command jolted the guard who stood ungraciously and took to running, alerting the other scrambling dock guards.

"Search the area!"

"For  _what_?! What are we looking for!?"

That was the last thing Thrynn heard before Isobel ran back in the East Empire stand and yanked him from his safe spot, pulling him mercilessly towards the Warehouse door as if he were unable to move. As soon as they shut the heavy steel door behind them Thrynn shook himself of Isobel's grip.

"I can walk, thank you kindly." He spat. Her eye roll made his lip curl, and her poke to his chest nearly made him growl.

"Listen, Thrynn. I don't want to do this anymore than you do, but the sooner we work together the sooner we can get out of here and go our separate ways again."

"I don't want to go separate ways." Thrynn stepped closer, unable to control the words coming out of his mouth. "I want to be with you."

" _Oh my gods_! What do you  _want_  from me?!" Isobel literally pulled at her hair, reaching up underneath her hood and grabbing handfuls as she grit her teeth. "You act like you hate my guts but still want me close. You give me dirty looks when I smile at you and then-"

A creaking suddenly brought Thrynn back to reality, and on instinct he wrapped his arms around Isobel from behind and cupped a hand over her mouth, holding her back into the shadows and resisting her clawing and bites.

They were trespassing. They were bickering while guards no doubt were patrolling the area. Thrynn felt Isobel stop struggling as she too came to her senses, the entangled two finally looking at where they were.

The place was massive, more an enormous cave than a warehouse. Its ceiling was high enough to accommodate even the tallest ship masts and wide enough to allow more than a few boats to dock, all while leaving room to spare for the rows upon rows of cargo shelves. Only one ship was being unloaded, sailors and laborers still rolling the barrels of whatever off the planks to others who were sorting and stacking the appropriate piles. Luckily this was all taking place on the exact opposite end of the warehouse from the two, loud thieves.

"This place is huge." Thrynn muttered, releasing Isobel as they both took in their surroundings.

"And full of corners."

Isobel was right. They would have to make their way through a labyrinth of cargo shelves before they reached the back of the warehouse, and each row completely concealed whoever could be on the other side.

"Just give me a few minutes. Stay hidden." With that Isobel crouched down and sped over to the first row of shelves, latching on and pulling herself up the sills and ledges. The tower of shipped goods was so tall the torch lights couldn't reach the former acrobat when she finally made it to the top, although he could still see her silhouette.

Thrynn crossed his arms and continued to stand in their previous shadow, scowling up at her and waiting impatiently as Isobel's profile scanned the area, perched high up like a hunched gargoyle and taking in the dark warehouse's features. When her eyes locked on something in particular he followed her gaze back to the near-emptied ship across the warehouse. Among the sea-shaped men stood Gulum-Ei.

He could barely make out the Argonian, the only thing that made him stand out against all the other barely visible men was the vibrant green skin. Thrynn crept over and knelt down underneath Isobel's tower, trying to get a closer look. He was talking, that much was obvious, and each sailor hung to his every word. How he and Issy were going to confront Gulum-Ei with such a gang was going to take some serious and tactful planning.

A few moments later, and Gulum-Ei picked three of the largest men to follow him off the ship. Thrynn strained his eye sight as much as he could, following their path along the cargo shelves, but by the time he blinked his eyes a few times he realized the group was gone. His eyes swept over the docks again, searching frantically for the targets he had suddenly lost sight of.

"Can you swim?" The comment caused Thrynn to start violently and almost punch the girl behind him on reflex.

"Gods, don't scare me like that."

"Can you swim?" Isobel repeated. He could, but the possibility of fighting three big men while soaking wet did not appeal to him.

"Why?"

"Did you see Gulum-Ei disappear behind that huge shelf of crates?" Isobel whispered, and Thrynn nodded. Isobel gestured with her head the maze of shipments beside them. "We  _can_ go through these cargo shelves... But once we reach the back there is no way we can sneak by that boat undetected. We need to swim across, we reach the opposite side of the warehouse and where Gulum-Ei and his cronies went is right in front of us and away from that ship."

Thrynn released a mixture of a grumble and a sigh.

"Fine, let's go."

Isobel checked the area briefly before speeding over and slinking into the water. He could only hope he could be half as silent as his bulky frame made the floorboards creak and groan, his descent into the chilly waters accompanied by splashes. Isobel didn't seem to mind though, already treading water underneath the dock and making sure they were still undetected.

"You ready?" She spoke in an hushed tone, and it almost made Thrynn forget that they were at odds.

"Mhm."

With that they started a steady stroke. It was difficult swimming in frigid, sheer blackness, Thrynn couldn't see anything within several feet around him save for a small black hood floating beside him, and if he wasn't looking at the docks they were swimming towards his sense of direction was completely lost.

They both reached their mark at the same time, reaching up to grip the boardwalk to pull themselves up. Thrynn didn't realize until he was already done making sure no enemies were close that Isobel was still struggling to bring herself up on the wooden docks, her soaking wet armour adding on too much weight for her to pull up easily. Whatever amount of social decency he had left in him after over a decade of pillaging and thieving told him to help her up, it would be what he'd do for any comrade, but doing so would mean touching her and something in him convinced him to stand back and let her figure it out on her own.

Which she did. She finally managed to bring one of her elbows onto the wood to lever herself up, and seeing her take a few moments to pant and catch her breath made Thrynn feel a shameful flare of satisfaction. He didn't like that he felt that way, but it was too strong for him to not acknowledge it. He liked seeing her struggle. He also wanted to kiss her.

_'Gods, what is wrong with me_ _?'_  He couldn't help but ask himself, but before he could try to answer his own question Isobel passed him.

"He went this way. Just keep your head down and mind your armour." Slowly she crouched lower down and made her way towards wherever she saw Gulum-Ei disappear. Thrynn, of course, trailed her, the populated ship getting worryingly close. Thrynn actually had to focus in on what Delvin had first taught him about sneaking if he wanted both he and Issy to remain undetected, holding onto the sword at his hip to prevent it from clinking.

Isobel stopped, gesturing with her hand for him to halt also. Thrynn was wondering what she was silently fussing over until he crawled beside her. She placed her hand on the boards in front of her, prompting him to do the same.

He could feel it. It was a draft.

A cold one too, from what he could tell it was coming from their right, somewhere behind the fortress of cargo and goods.

It was his turn to lead, Thrynn grabbed Isobel's shoulder and guided her around, back tracking their way to the nearest turn into the warren of shelves. Behind all the barrels and boxes and crates and other goods he felt marginally safer, they were in a healthy amount of shadow now and away from the sailor's line of sight. If only Thrynn could trace where the draft was coming from...

Once they reached the wall of the warehouse he didn't need any sort of skill to pinpoint the source. A dark steel door was hidden inconspicuously in a niche, filling both he and Isobel with confidence.

They had made progress.

Isobel had sped over and picked open the lock in no time at all, the final calls from the labourers silenced as they shut the door behind them.

"You have to be kidding me..." She mumbled. They were no longer in any part of the warehouse, whatever they were residing in was no way part of regulation.

The large cavernous tunnel before them was dark and dank. There was a barely flickering lantern posted about every twenty feet which did nothing to illuminate their surroundings, and the graveled earth beneath them was slushy from the water that dripped from the ceiling and the long grotto that stretched alongside the worn path. Everything about it felt forbidden and illicit.

Soundlessly Isobel started to prowl forward, her step not even crunching or shuffling the rocky ground unlike Thrynn's big boots. They walked single file close against the cave walls, every one of their senses straining to pick up any sign of danger. It was for the most part empty, save for a few dead skeevers that floated in the reservoir, bobbing along with the rest of the debris and junk littered in the water.

"You still okay?" Isobel whispered over her shoulder, Thrynn was surprised at the question.

"...Yeah." He muttered back, continuing to walk behind her. "Why?"

"Just doing a check-up." She grumbled, slightly irritated for whatever reason. "It's important we both be in sync." She suddenly stopped and ducked down, causing Thrynn to nearly walk right over her. Ignoring the way he almost tripped on her Isobel pointed up, and around the bend shone a large, brightly lit alcove.

This was the end of the tunnel, Gulum-Ei had to be in that lighted space, and when Isobel swept over and leaned to get a glimpse of what was around the corner she relayed her barely audible observations to an attentive Thrynn.

"Large area... Gulum-Ei and his boys... a fire...more cargo."

Craving a more visual idea of what they were up against, Thrynn lowered himself all the way to the muddy ground, his soaking armour making it even muddier. Army-crawling to Isobel's side he took a look for himself.

Indeed, the carved out area was large, enough to fit a large campfire roasting a skeever on a spit and a few frail tables topped with food and drink. The walls were lined with even more shipments, only Thrynn guessed they weren't as legitimate as the main warehouse's.

"There's Gulum-Ei and his bodyguards... He must've known we'd follow him." Thrynn whispered, watching the Argonian pace along the walls of boxes and crates while his men sat or stood around the fire.

"How do we do this? Is Gulum-Ei the type to murder? Like will those guards fight to kill?"

"Yes." Thrynn remembered Delvin's words...  _'There are thieves and then there is Gulum-Ei. No honour, no code at all. He'll shake your hand and stab you in the back at the same time'_

"Shit... Do you guys have to pay the Blood Price if you kill in self defense?"

"The what?"

"The Blood Price. You have to pay a penalty if you kill on a job."

"Only if it's an innocent, we can kill defensively."

"Okay, good. Did you bring your bow and arrows?"

"No, I left that with the horse. I usually only take it for on the road, never for jobs."

"Shit..." She repeated, leaning back and thumping her end against the cave wall. "What do we do? There are four of them and two of us, even the element of surprise won't be enough to guarantee success."

Thrynn thought heavily, only one guard had a bow, if he could take him down first then close combat wouldn't mean still getting arrowed in the back.

"You charge in and fight and distract them the best you can, I need to take out the archer first and then I'll help you with the others." He muttered, and Isobel sighed heavily. She looked completely disappointed in their situation, which Thrynn found odd considering her experience and history. There was no way she wasn't ever given a job similar to this, where the possibility of being killed was high.

Without warning she raised her hand, flat out and expecting. Her eyes were closed and Thrynn had no idea what she was doing, and when he simply remained staring up at her she blinked open again.

"Sorry, I keep forgetting... Grasping hands is something partners always do back home, just before they enter danger..." She looked embarrassed, sad even. "Crunch time..." She whispered to herself.

Thrynn couldn't breathe, her words in Falkreath still replaying in his head...  _'If I showed you any kindness during this discussion you would see it as softness for you'_...

She was right, again, her wanting to hold his hand before facing possible death even with their tension did touch him. And he never felt the urge to embrace someone so desperately in his whole life, it made him have to look away lest he get too emotional.

"Let's just go." He spat out, raising up to his feet. "We won't die, I... I promise..."

Isobel rose up as well, still looking miserable before she drew her daggers and took off around the corner.

Thrynn was close behind her, his sword already drawn before Gulum-Ei and his guards even started for their own weapons. Isobel sprinted onward towards an Orc and a Nord as he targeted the archer frantically trying to notch his bow. Luckily for him, a dagger had planted itself into the bowman's thigh, causing him to stagger with a cry and ruin his shot. This granted Thrynn the perfect window of time to bury his sword into the man's belly, having to wrap his thick arm around the archer's neck in order to pull his blade from the thick abdomen. Thrynn was too experienced to feel the blood spill onto him as the man collapsed, dead or unconscious, and simply turned to face the other enemies.

The Orc with the warhammer was closest, moving in on him as he raised his weapon above his head. His eyes were lit with a fury Thrynn hadn't seen the likes of in his entire life, they were blazing with pure madness and nearly made him freeze on the spot.

But he didn't have to be the fastest or smallest to dodge such a slow, bulky warhammer, and moved swiftly to the right before plunging his blade into the Orc's side. Once Thrynn unsheathed his sword from the Orc's flesh he swung it across the his neck, slicing open his throat before he could start falling.

The last man lay already dead on the ground, his head caved in with skull and brain fragments splattering in all directions. It looked like a popped melon, and Isobel was already advancing onto Gulum-Ei, leaving Thrynn to wonder how on Nirn she bashed a man's skull in with only a few daggers until he remembered.

Magic. She had used an Illusion spell on the Orc.

Thrynn couldn't spend much time admiring Isobel's handiwork, Gulum-Ei had began to take off, racing towards the exit. Isobel was too fast though, she descended on the Argonian like a bird of prey, toppling him to the mud.

"Now there's no need to do anything rash!" Gulum-Ei looked beyond horrified as Isobel held him down, gesturing for Thrynn to come over and aid her.

"Drag him over here." Isobel spoke after Thrynn helped her restrain the floored Gulum-Ei, making her way over to some shelves stacked with large bags. Thrynn obeyed, grabbing Gulum-Ei's shirt and yanking him haphazardly to where Isobel scavenged, taking time to revel in the fact that both he and a non-battle hardened Breton had taken on three armed men and lived.

"This isn't as bad as it seems! I was going to tell Mercer about everything, honestly!" Gulum-Ei sobbed on the ground, whether Isobel's capture had seriously damaged him or if he was crying out of sheer fright was unclear.

"Stop embarrassing yourself, lizard." Thrynn crouched down beside him once they reached their destination, dripping from his earlier swim and now the blood of Gulum-Ei's guards. Isobel was dragging over four sacks from the shelf, dropping them precariously before wrenching Gulum-Ei onto his back and sitting on his chest, her kneecaps painfully pinning down his arms.

"Thrynn, would you be so kind as to hold a sack over Gulum-Ei's head?" The comment was smug, and Thrynn smiled against his will.

"T'would be a pleasure, Issy." He chimed, keeping his forbidding undertone as he hoisted one burlap sack over the terrified Argonian. Isobel took out her largest dagger, slitting open the bag as what looked like some exotic spice avalanched onto Gulum-Ei's face. A red-orange cloud puffed from his fanged mouth as he coughed the aromatic dust from his lips, trying to shake it off before Isobel gestured for another bag. This one was sugar, and it poured over the Argonian like a white, crackling waterfall as he tried to turn his head away from its impact.

"Please, he'll have me killed!"

"Another sack." Isobel spoke. This time the white granules that spilled from the sack caught Isobel's attention and as Gulum-Ei struggled fiercely to push her off his chest she rubbed some of the substance on her dagger.

Thrynn had a feeling it wasn't sugar.

"Okay Gulum-Ei. This is your last chance."

"Please... I'll tell you! I'll tell you!" Gulum-Ei was nearly sobbing now. Regardless, Isobel pressed the tip of her salted blade down just enough to penetrate the scales slightly above his collarbone and Gulum-Ei cried out in pain.

"It's Karliah! It's Karliah! It's Karliah!"

He remained still now, his breathing hitched as Isobel looked up at Thrynn.

"Who's Karliah?" She asked him.

"Like I bloody know."

"You say that name as if we should know it." She turned back to Gulum-Ei, now brushing the mix of sugar, spice and salt from his face with a tenderness so non-reflective of her previous vexation.

"Mercer... Mercer never told you about her?" He said incredulously, and when the two thieves shook their heads he snorted, his eyes watery and nose running. "Karliah is the thief responsible for murdering the previous Guild Master, Gallus. Now she's after Merc-" His sentence was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream, his yellow eyes unfocused and cross eyed in agony. Isobel had buried her dagger to the hilt, completely penetrating the Argonian's shoulder and breaking through the other side.

" _And you're helping her?!_ " Her voice cracked from the mere extent of her screech, and Thrynn had to physically pick her up and throw her away from the tortured Gulum-Ei, still writhing and clutching the dagger in his shoulder.

"Isobel! We have to keep him alive!" Thrynn bellowed at her, catching her before she could pounce on Gulum-Ei again. "We can't kill him!"

"Why?! He's not an innocent!" She was shaking in rage, so closely resembling the Orc, and Thrynn had no idea why she was reacting the way she was. If anything she should've been rejoicing that someone was hunting Mercer, Thrynn almost was, but instead she looked ready to murder the Argonian as if he had killed her kin.

"Isobel, you have to heal him  _right now_!"

"No!"

"Isobel!" Thrynn shook her shoulders, trying to keep track on both her and Gulum-Ei, who was still crying as he slowly sat up and tried to wedge the salted dagger out of him.

"She's going after Mercer next...she's going after Mercer..." He was whimpering.

"Where is she?! Where is she now?!" Isobel continued her loud shrieks, still fighting against Thrynn.

"I don't know! She never said!"

"Isobel, we can't kill him!"

"What  _can_ we do then? Take him with us to Riften? We can't leave him alone, he could go back to her, tell her we're onto her." Isobel had a point, Thrynn and Etienne weren't instructed on what to do lest the information was so sinister and the informant able to snitch.

"But, what if she comes back?" Thrynn pondered further, letting go of the semi-pacified Isobel and turning back towards Gulum-Ei. "What if she comes back and sees he's gone, or if they have a meeting somewhere and he doesn't show, or if letters arrive... We could find her  _easily_  if she makes contact with him again."

"You're right." Isobel muttered. "Someone needs to stay here with him, but..." Thrynn could tell she was thinking fiercely, that several dilemmas were piercing her mind.

"But...?"

"I was going to say it should be me, since I need to lay-low and avoid Riften anyway... but I already told Sapphire to tell the Guild that I'd be back, and I know I need to face Mercer and the Black-Briars sooner rather than later..."

"I'll stay." Thrynn mumbled, and Isobel's face twisted into a morose grimace. He wished he could stop, that he could retract the words, but he only sighed heavily. Etienne would be no use guarding Gulum-Ei, it only made sense he stay.

"That'd be asking a lot, Thrynn." Isobel spoke solemnly, and Thrynn shrugged. She'd be going back to Brynjolf, the thought made him want to scream, but he knew that bizarre bitterness in him had to stop if he wanted Isobel to remain in his life, at least as a friend.

"I'll do it. I'll stay and keep watch. You and Etienne head back, and be safe."

"You're staying here now? You won't even come back to the Winking Skeever?"

"And give this lizard here a chance to make a break for it? I don't think so." Thrynn nudged Gulum-Ei with his foot, still filthy and teary as he glared up at them.

"Thrynn... I'm so sorry for treating you the way I have." Isobel croaked, and Thrynn froze. "I just... I just didn't want to lead you on anymore so I thought being a bitch would-"

"It's okay, Issy." Her apology didn't make his feelings any less wounded, it didn't make the idea of her and the Second in Command together any more comfortable, but it still showed him she didn't hate him entirely. Maybe someday they'd be able to fully communicate again.

"Thank you, for everything." Isobel said after a rather long pause, still looking emotional. "I don't think Etienne and I would've made it to Solitude by ourselves, and we definitely wouldn't have been able to take on three men."

"Just doing my job."

"Can you two shut it up and heal me already!?" Gulum-Ei cried out. "I told you what you wanted!" Isobel simply turned to face Thrynn straight on, the two sharing one last moment before Isobel reached up and patted him timidly on the shoulder.

"I'll see you again." This time her voice was steady, and again, Thrynn wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her.

"Until then." He replied quietly, forcing his body to remain rigid lest he lose himself. Isobel finally turned to leave, to make her way back to the inn to rest before setting off to travel alone across Skyrim the next morning, setting off to what could be a death-trap for her in Riften. Watching her walk away in that moment felt like slow-motion, Thrynn trying to take in as much as he could of her knowing it was entirely possible he may not ever see her again. She surprised him when she turned around one last time to look at him, one tear rolling down her cheek.

"Everything is going so wrong."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, so. We are now approaching a little side plot line in the story that I have DESPISED since I wrote it years ago. After making up excuse after excuse to not go in and rewrite it entirely, I have now decided to do just that. This will be a little bit of work, so I can't promise when the next chapter will be up. I will be busy editing writing away though, rewriting a part of my story for the millionth time (and I wonder why it's taken me so many years to finish this. derp.)  
> Thanks for the love (◕‿◕✿)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I am always a slut for constructive criticism/constructive compliments, hearing feedback not only gives me sweet validation but it also motivates me to keep writing. If I'm doing something wrong or right, please let me know! I want to get better, and I want to know what I'm good at (I'm sure most writers on here can agree we are our harshest critics and its damn hard seeing the successful parts of our stories).   
> Kudos and comments are deeply appreciated! Love you all!


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